Candy Hearses And Chocolate Chip Coffins
by Virgins-and-Surgeons
Summary: In the end, we all changed. We became things we never thought possible." Inoue has adapted to Hueco Mundo, a cold queen in a castle of white. When her 'saviors' come five years tardy, the innocence of their golden age is long gone. Goodbye halcyon days.
1. Cruel Epiphanies

It was a quiet night.

Of course, it was always a quiet night here. It was always night. It was always too quiet. Maddening to one used to the bustle of living. Of being alive at all, to be precise. But then again, requests of such people usually aren't taken into consideration; they are usually ignored, if only to push those people back out of the spotlight and away from where they could cause trouble.

One such person lay dormant on the floor of her bleached cell, knees to her gratuitous chest. Her arms were circled loosely around them, hands crossing at the wrists as they lay on her ankles. Her cheek was pressed to her kneecap, clear gray eyes staring off into space with a dark hint of worry in them. Long silky bright orange hair traveled down her back, ending and coiling on the sanitary white flooring underneath her. Two sparkling clips held bangs from her eyes, unassuming little things that one wouldn't give a second thought to if they just saw them in passing. This young woman wished that nobody at all 'd given a second thought about them.  
"…Kurosaki-kun…I wonder if he's okay…" A soft voice murmured into the empty room. She hated how white it all was. No…Orihime Inoue didn't hate anything. She just wished that her captors wouldn't have used so much of it. She yearned that her room were a bunch of colors. Maybe a mix of them, something pretty. Make-believe had helped her for a little while, and she pretended that it was a splash of reds and blues and the very brightest of orange, a shade that was so bright it burned the corneas. Like the sun. Like his hair.

"Of…of course he's okay…he's fine, and he's coming…" Orihime repeated for the millionth time to herself. How long had she been trapped in Hueco Mundo? In Las Noches, a domain of monsters and traitorous beasts? She couldn't tell. The days didn't pass with sunlight, and as much as she would have wished for it, Aizen found it fit to leave her in this small room and not allow her to go see the fake sun she'd heard so much about from the muttering Arrancar passing by her door. They didn't seem to like it; why couldn't she enjoy it?

A clattering noise awoke her from her reveries, and she stood as the door opened and a thin figure with a soldier's stiff posture strode in with purpose. A cart rolled after him, and Orihime stared down her main day-to-day adversary. Ulquiorra Schiffer, the most monochrome and joyless person she'd ever met. They were polar opposites; she was…is the epitome of everything alive. Orihime laughed, she smiled, she danced, she had friends and she…she loved. Ulquiorra was the epitome of everything dead. He never laughed, never smiled or made any particular facial expression at all, found actions like dancing to be superfluous, had very few people that enjoyed his company, if any at all, and from Orihime's point of view, most likely never felt the slightest affection for anything at all. These two vastly different beings waged a war every single day, multiple times. A war of the wills, one that Orihime always lost.

"Woman, it is time for your dinner." Ulquiorra's cold monotone cut the air. Orihime stared at him with resolution in her eyes.

"I'm not hungry." She stated firmly, even as her stomach ached for something, anything at all. She didn't want their food, didn't want to eat what was made in this dead place. She might catch what Ulquiorra had, or the madness that all of Las Noches seemed to possess in one way or another. Ulquiorra didn't respond with shock or annoyance, merely spoke again.

"You will eat, or I will shove it down your throat." No movement was made on his part, and he stared directly into her eyes with his own emerald pair. How Orihime wished he had dull eyes, an ugly dark greenish gray or brownish black or something. Those eyes he had were too alive for such a soulless, dispassionate…thing!

Orihime shook her head, rejecting it. The emotionless Arrancar proceeded to take some of the bread on the plate and soak it in the soup, before coming towards her. Orihime shook her head faster, backstepping as fast as he was coming. She was staring at him, wide-eyed across the room for one second and he was in her face the next, pinning her to the wall. He hooked his fingers behind her jaw, forcing her mouth open and shoving the soggy and cold bread on the back of her tongue before holding her mouth and nose shut. Orihime tried to hold her breath; the food's texture and disgusting taste made her stomach turn. But Ulquiorra wouldn't relent, and she needed to breath. So she swallowed it down, tears already spilling over and running down her cheeks. He let her breathe and she thought it was over.

"I-I'll eat-" She started, before he was dragging her off towards the cart. Orihime yelled, trying to pull away from him but his grip was steel as he dragged her over and repeated the process, shoving more bread down her throat until it was all gone and her soup was finished. She cried through the entire process, wishing she had just eaten when he gave her the choice to do it willingly.

"…I expect from your useless crying that you will be intelligent enough to eat willingly on the next occasion." Ulquiorra spoke in a dull drone, letting her drop to the floor in tears. She didn't look at him; he didn't expect her to and merely had the attendants roll the cart out of the room, he following shortly after to leave her to her sobbing.

"K-Kuro-s-saki-kun…" Orihime spoke between sobs, burying her face in her arms. Her white uniform was getting wet from crying, but the girl ignored it and continued in her lamentations.

"I-I c-can't s-st-stay h-here! I-I w-wanna g-go h-ho-me!!" Orihime hadn't let herself feel…well, sorry for herself. She felt weak even now, didn't want to be like this. Lamenting her situation, while her friends were out there probably getting ready to save her right now. She made herself believe that. Made herself believe that her friends didn't think her traitor, that they'd know how she'd never ever betray them. They just had to know that, they HAD to!

….They knew that…didn't they?

She slept little that night, on the uncomfortably poofed out couch. What time there was asleep was spent with a dream version of Ichigo, where he rescued her and struck down the evil Aizen and all the other monsters that haunted Las Noches and Hueco Mundo. Every time, she would awaken to find herself in the cold white room once more. Remind herself that it was that which she was waiting for. What she had waited for. What she was still waiting for.

It had been so long.

Kurosaki-kun would come, she was sure of that. But…how long until he did? It had felt like so long since she'd been shoved in the tiny room, since she'd been put under Aizen's thumb. Her hair was longer. A lot longer. Couldn't have been more than six or so months, right? Couldn't be. Kurosaki-kun was just training, getting ready to save her. Of course he was. It was silly to think he was doing anything else.

The door opened, and the curled form of Orihime turned around slightly. She was actually expecting Ulquiorra with her food. No, that couldn't be right. It had only been a few hours since Ulquiorra was here last-

"Hey woman." A rough growling voice cut the air. She froze; why of all the people in Las Noches was HE here?

"Bitch, I'm talkin' to you!" Another barking command to look at the figure she so desperately wished would just go away. She didn't; just buried her face further into the couch, having snapped back into the cushions as soon as she caught sight of the shocking blue hair. Heavy steps and a rough hand grabbed her by the near floor-length hair, dragging her onto her feet with a yelp.

"You got a fucking hearing problem?" Grimmjow Jeagerjaques growled in her face, his hand wrapped up in her silky tresses tightly at the scalp. Orihime opened one eye to stare into his bright blues, the tears already collecting. This seemed to enrage him even more. Grimmjow threw her down into the couch again, orange hairs caught in his fist as he released her.

"Don't you fucking cry. I ain't done shit to you yet."

Grimmjow growled, and Orihime scooted further away from him into the cushions. The Sexta Espada growled, before dropping onto the couch next to her with his arms behind his head She shirked away from his body, and he just stared off for a little while.

"…What the fuck are you waiting for?" He half-growled, and Orihime jumped.

"W-What?" She spoke softly, staring at him. He half glared back at her.

"You waiting for the orange-headed shinigami bastard?' She got it, and turned away from him with a resolute look on her face.

"H-He's coming. He will!" She stated, hugging knees to her chest and staring off. Grimmjow laughed sharply, a barking noise. Orihime hated it.  
"Fuck, you still waitin' after all this time??" Grimmjow grinned at her, as if he knew something she didn't. Orihime stared at him.

"W…what? Of course I am, he's coming! And what…do you mean…" She put her head on her knees, looking at her feet against the white fabric of the couch.

"…All this time?" She asked, quietly. Grimmjow looked at her a minute, before laughing sharply.

"Ya mean you don't know how long it's been? Shit, pretty damn uninformed. No fuckin' wonder you're still waiting." He grinned and stood, walking towards the door and apparently satisfied. Orihime found herself on her feet and looking after him, aching for answers.

"How…how long has it been??" She called desperately to his back, and he stopped in the doorway. Looking over his shoulder in a way that would only show her one bright blue feral eye, he raised a hand and splayed it open wide, before strolling out the door and leaving her dreams decimated. The slam of the white door was barely noticed, as Orihime slipped from her feet and to her knees. Orihime's eyes were open wide with disbelief, delicate hands numb on the cold floor.

"Five…" She said in a breathless manner, tears dripping onto the floor from her stinging eyes. She wouldn't close them, she couldn't.

Orihime got the silent message from Grimmjow, the one gesture that destroyed all hope she had possessed.

Five years. Her hair, the way Aizen had slowly started discussing things she heard wind of, things like redecorating her room or getting her some sort of hobby, Grimmjow starting to visit her more often over her time of incarceration. No wonder. It was written all over the walls, and one little girl so drenched in denial couldn't read the letters. She hadn't had any knowledge of the time she had spent here; the poor princess trapped in her white tower thought it was five months, when she was here for five years. How adorable Aizen must have found her ignorance. How adorable they all must have thought it, either adorable or sickly amusing. Watching the poor little thing trapped in their world continually deluding herself with fantasies; absurd fantasies of an orange-haired knight to knock the Black Knight Ulquiorra from his mount and charge in, kill the evil king Aizen and then take her in his arms, away from this castle of monsters and into the golden sunset. How much they would laugh when they found out she was wallowing in despair over the realization that nobody would ever-

"No, no no no no no!!!" She shouted, holding her head tightly. It couldn't be true!! They were coming; something must have held them up! That…of course that was true. It was. It had to be. Maybe Grimmjow was lying. Wouldn't be out of character for him; yeah, he was just lying. Telling her things so that she would cry, and he could laugh at her. It couldn't have been more than five or six months, it…it couldn't have been.

Orihime moved onto hands and knees, staring at the floor. The veil of overly long orange hair hung to the floor and pierced her denial, her shield, the only thing protecting her sanity. She tightened her fists on the flooring, ignoring the stinging pain as her nails cut into her palms. Bloody half moons went ignored and she moved them to cover her face, deep, gutteral sobs wracking her lithe form. A dissonance of despair, the sounds of horrifically wild sobbing echoing around the room. The princess, so long solely dependent on the flittering hope of rescue collapsed just as heavily as her heart did. The vague realization of something she had ignored so long came back to haunt her now. That way, the way that her…**her** Kurosaki-kun looked at Rukia. The way that they fought, where they're not really angry but they fight because they're so good for each other. The way that whenever somebody asked about Ichigo and Orihime being together, he would just laugh and say no. But if somebody suggested it about him and Rukia, he would go into fits just to convince anyone that he wasn't with her.

She knew it. She just didn't want to believe it.

So she didn't.

Orihime Inoue led herself on that there was a glimmering star in the distance, a distant hope that she would win his heart. How much did she hang upon those brief hopes, oh how she depended on them. It had helped her through the days back in Karakura, where she could hang out with Tatsuki and forget about it all for a brief bit of time. It was so brief, but it was what she needed. Back then, she more or less wanted it to comfort her. Here, she depended on it. She lived on it. She_ needed_ it. And now that it was gone, what would she do?

What was left for her, except the place she was caught in?

…

What was left for her, except the place she was caught in.

The dark realization of the only thing left for Inoue Orihime hit her heavily, and she released a torrent of fresh sobs.

Inoue Orihime was unimportant. Those people she called friends, they weren't coming. Uryuu, Sado, Renji, Rangiku, Rukia…Ichigo…they weren't ever coming. She wasn't worth it to them, wasn't worth possibly losing their lives over. Orihime briefly wondered what Tatsuki was doing, where she was. She'd be in college by now. They would all be. Not the shinigami, of course, but who she thought were her first friends. The people she would have lived for. _Died_ for.

Orihime crawled onto the couch, crying until her throat was raw and she couldn't wail and sob loudly any more. Then, it was reduced to whimpers and soft sobs of betrayal, black despair taking hold of her heart. Hours of laying there, letting it all wash over her. Her future; what it would be. She'd be here forever, of course. Not even dying would set her free; if she died, she'd just sit next to her body until Ulquiorra showed up and took her soul to Aizen, before dragging her back to the cell and sitting her there with absolutely no hope of ever…no, 'even if she did somehow get out' was a fond memory. She wasn't getting out. Couldn't do it herself, and none of the Arrancar were going to help her. Aizen would never let the princess go, of course. She would just sit there for a hundred years, two hundred, maybe even four or five. She didn't know how long a soul would live, but from how old she thought she heard someone say the Head Captain of Seireitei was, she could be here for a really long time.

"…It's…not going to be okay, is…is it?" she questioned nobody in particular, with a soft voice. Her knees were clutched to her chest, before she buried her red face into her legs and began to sob again.

__

Ulquiorra announced his presence, walking in quietly as the cart slid in after him and the door slammed. The woman was sitting on her couch, her hands in her lap. She looked up to him; her eyes were a glassy, abnormal and altogether dead and dull gray. He didn't react to it, seeing that her face was flushed and her eyes puffy; she was apparently crying, and very hard from how disheveled she looked. He didn't react, merely motioning to the cart. She blinked; the food wasn't bread, soup and water like before. It was an actual meal, with steak and salad and wine. A full-course meal.

"Woman, you will eat or I-" his dead threat was cut off as she stood and came with heavy steps towards him and the tray, taking the plates and glass before sitting down on her couch.

"Thank you." Orihime's voice rang out dully, as she began to eat. Ulquiorra didn't answer her thanks, merely observed how pacifistic and compliant she was being now. Something must have happened, and with her mannerisms and how she looked to have been crying, he could only speculate that some sort of tragic epiphany or news had come to her and broken her down. It didn't matter to him; she was eating and that was his entire mission for whenever he came here.

"…Schiffer-san…" She finally spoke again, very quietly. It attracted Ulquiorra's attention.

"What, woman?" It was a direct demand for an answer. As she stood again, putting the empty plate on the tray and walking past him on her way back to the couch, she spoke one sentence of pure finality.

"…Please tell Aizen-sama that I am ready to cooperate."

_((AN: First chapter of the Orihime-centric new story idea that's been bothering me for a little while now. That's right; another multi-chapter thing. This one's gonna be dark, so be prepared for such. Toodles!))_


	2. Tea With Aizen

**((AN: Chapter two of the grand Orihime angst story I've had in my brain for a while now. Just to let you guys know, I'm going with Ulquihime. A couple reviews with an opinion'd be nice. Hell, a couple reviews or any at all would be grand.))**

Orihime hadn't been immediately allowed to run around Las Noches, even once she gave her word for Ulquiorra to pass on to him. So she still sat in her pale white room, no longer imagining colors of the brightest oranges staining the walls. No, she didn't see things like that anymore. What Orihime Inoue saw was white, sickeningly sterile white. Orange? That color didn't exist anymore. Only blacks and whites, the palest of colors. The colors of Aizen, the colors of hollows. The colors of a chained woman's broken heart.

Now she sat in her room like a lady with her hands in her lap, no longer clutching her knees to her chest like a child. A decision had been made on her part; she was no longer the fifteen-year-old teenager that was drawn into Aizen's web and waited for her savior. No, she was the twenty-year-old woman that had become and would remain the fallen flower of Las Noches. She would adapt, or she would wither. Orihime was never one to just lay down and die; no, even if she did rely on her Kurosaki-kun for most of the good years, the time in Soul Society when they saved…_**her**_…the time when they ran amongst enemies and even made a few friends. Orihime missed Yachiru a little bit; she was a fun girl. If a little bit hyperactive.

Standing quietly, she stepped across the room as Ulquiorra's reiatsu approached. When he walked in, she was already standing and waiting for him to speak to her.

"And how did Aizen-sama take my words?" She queried lightly, and Ulquiorra could detect no hints of deceit in her voice or actions. He didn't make any sort of expression, merely answered dully. Orihime didn't so much mind his eyes anymore; the vibrant green was almost a welcome sight. She had come to appreciate his eyes.

"Aizen-sama offers his appreciation. He has told me to inform you that within a few week's time, he wishes to speak with you personally."

The tray rolled in behind him, and it was once again a feast, even more grand than the last. Apparently, once she cooperated then he'd be perfectly happy to offer her anything her heart desired. What her heart desired wasn't material, but what her heart desired didn't mean a thing in this white Hell.

"Schiffer-san…would you please eat with me?" She asked, quietly. Starving for some sort of attention, any at all. Her…no, not hers. He was never hers at all. _**Her**_ Ichigo had never shown Orihime any sort of attention past friendship; she should have known that he would never hold anything more for her. Why did she even expect it? What a foolish little girl she was, a girl with her head in the clouds and an odd taste for food. Even now, that was disappearing too. She didn't hunger for olive tomato miso soup on rice anymore, just for something past bread and water. And apparently, when you lose all hope and cooperate with Aizen, he'll give you everything you could ever want. Besides what Orihime really wanted, of course.

"…Very well." Ulquiorra stated, also getting a plate. He wasn't required to eat, but he could. Hollows subsisted on souls, mostly, but Aizen had them eat and drink tea to create an illusory image that they weren't soulless creatures that felt hate, lust, blood thirst, constant slothfulness, overbearing pride or nothing at all. Aizen wanted them tame enough to follow orders, but not too much so that their killing instincts dulled. And the Arrancar, more accurately the Espada were perfect examples of what Arrancar should be and could get away with. Anything, as long as it didn't bother Aizen.

Ulquiorra moved to sit beside her, as she seemed to wish. He ate quietly, silently, and ignored the fact that Orihime was observing every single move he made. She never really looked at him before, but now that she did, she saw with what purpose, what incidental grace he moved with. Even just eating, he was refined and nearly ethereal in his actions. She loved how he could be like that, even as he was surrounded by people like Grimmjow and Nnoitra. He ignored her, acted as if she didn't even exist. It would normally have hurt her, but now…now she wanted him to look at her. She wanted him to notice her existence. She wanted someone to recognize that she was alive. And he was the only one that she ever saw.

"…Schiffer-san…" She began, before his green eyes swiveled over to observe her. Funny how it is, when you're ignored completely, how attached you become to the only one you ever see. Stockholm Syndrome, she denied to herself. She couldn't have developed it. Not for him, her complete and polar opposite. Could she? It was silly, he was…well, he wasn't like her. She wasn't like him. It was a silly thought from a silly, desperate girl. That's what she told herself as she spoke.

"…Um, could you…eat with me more often?" It was a soft question, very soft. She expected him to shoot her down. Ulquiorra observed her with renewed curiosity. His memory flashed back to the time when he stated the pure facts, that she would never be rescued and any attempts were foolhardy and she slapped him. She hated him back then, he knew it. But now she wanted him near her. Stockholm, inevitable effects of five years of captivity.

"…Very well." He stated, standing quietly and taking her empty plate from her hands, stiff with shock. He put them on the cart, beginning to walk out the door.

"I will return within six hours for the next time you will eat." He stated in cold monotone, stepping out the door and shutting it behind him. Orihime merely stared at her empty hands, wondering why she had asked. Wondering why he had consented. Ulquiorra Schiffer never would have done so back at the beginning. What had changed from then to now?

She lay down on her couch after he had left, a hand over her heart as she recalled the times she'd remembered her Kurosaki-kun on this couch. What she had thought was her Kurosaki-kun, anyway. Now, she knew he wasn't hers anymore. He never had been.

But one person, one saw her three times a day. One person had tolerated a slap from her. One person promised to eat with her.

She had one person.

And that one person was on her mind as she closed her eyes and drifted off into a light doze, one not focused on orange hair and soft brown eyes but instead, black hair crowned with a horn. A pair of emerald eyes.

___

Orihime followed after Ulquiorra quietly, moving through the hallways towards what Aizen had called a 'Tea appointment'. She felt natural nervousness, but much less than what she would have five years ago. Now all she had to lose was her life, and that wasn't even worth very much to her anymore. So what if she died; she'd just come back as a soul, and live out hundreds of years as that. And if she died again? She would most likely be reincarnated as a human, and be free of this place.

Nothing to lose, really. Nothing at all.

"We have arrived. Be courteous and respectful to Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra stated, opening the door for her. She nodded, stepping into a quiet room with a table in the middle. Aizen was sitting on the other side of the table facing her, smiling genially. She knew it was fake. Of course it was a fake smile; his expression could be so very kind, and his lips could weave sweet lies, but his eyes could never hide what he was.

The Lord of Las Noches. That's what he was, and that's what he would always be to her. He was not her friend, or someone to confide or trust in. He was her King, he was her God. Never her friend. Never.

"Ah, hello Inoue-san. Please, have a seat."

His voice was of a disingenuously caring tone, and she smiled in a way that was just as deceptively sweet.

"Thank you, Aizen-sama."

As she sat down across from him, the realization of what she was doing once again rose to her mind. It had tormented her for a good while from her epiphany a few weeks ago. The fact that she was going traitor. Then again, hadn't they done that to her too? They had abandoned her; it meant that they betrayed her compassion and trust. All the times she healed them, all the times she gave her heart to them. All the times that she put her life on the line for them. And they had betrayed it all.

"Inoue-san, I have gained word that you have decided to cooperate." Aizen spoke smoothly, tea being poured for them by a Numero who quickly retreated from the room to be called upon later. Orihime watched as Aizen took a sip of his, watching her intently. She smiled, not the girlish warmhearted sunny grin she gave so freely to the traitors back in Karakura. No, this was a refined and shaded smile, one that equaled Aizen's in deceit. She didn't care for him at all, and he very much knew this. He didn't see her as anything more than an asset, and she was aware. But what Orihime was proposing was to put that animosity down to rest, hide it so that it may someday be ignored or even forgotten.

It was an alliance she proposed, knowing what her 'friends' had done. It was an alliance he accepted, knowing that having her come to love Las Noches for all it wouldn't be was beneficial to him.

"Yes, Aizen-sama. I very much wish to put down this meager resistance I have had for the past five years. You and I, we are both aware that I will never be leaving here. I wish to at least somewhat enjoy my eternity here."

The words rang less poisonous than she had thought they would. They came entirely too easy, and Orihime knew she should have been more guilty for it. But she wasn't, she wouldn't be. It was for her.

It was the first time she had really done something for herself, instead of for the good of Soul Society, or the good of her friends. It was the first time she had ever taken herself into account, and it felt lovely. It felt so very good to finally think of herself. And as she sipped her tea very ladylike, keeping her gray eyes, once so soft and kind on Aizen. Now, they were sharp as broken glass and told Aizen that she had grown not only physically, but also mentally in this time. She wasn't going to truly trust him, and that was a smart idea. He didn't need trust, not hers.

"That is quite the good news, Inoue-san-" Aizen began, before Orihime quietly cut him off.

"Orihime. Please, just Orihime, Aizen-sama." She kept herself focused on the tea, to show him no disrespect. Aizen smiled a bit more, sipping his tea again.

"Very well, Orihime. I am very pleased that you have decided on cooperating. It will be attended to that you are not treated as a guest any longer. Not a guest, but as a resident of Las Noches."

He sounded pleased enough, but she could feel his eyes raking over her for the slightest hint of deceit. She kept herself respectful but reasonably dignified, lowering her eyes to the red belt at his waist as she drank her tea. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but it was all she could do.

"You will be moved to a larger room, Orihime. I will also allow the occasional trip into Las Noches itself, with an accompanying guard of course. We wouldn't want a resident to be attacked while she was in our home."

The words were lies; he didn't care what happened to her as long as she could heal his troops. She didn't even know if the Winter War had been won or lost yet, but from how nicely Aizen was getting by, she assumed he was currently winning. The tea was finished, and like a true gentleman, Aizen gently took her smaller, delicate hand and kissed it before Ulquiorra came in to escort her to a new room.

"I hope we will be able to have tea again at a later point in time, Aizen-sama." Orihime spoke to him, smiling in that same manner that suggested she didn't trust him at all. He chuckled a bit, as Ulquiorra led her out of the room.

"Indeed, Orihime. That would be quite enjoyable."

She was lead out, and Aizen ignored a couple Numero coming to clean up the dishes.

"It is something I very much look forward to."

__

Ulquiorra lead Orihime down a new hallway, opening the door for her and watching her walk in to look at the room with quiet appreciation. No longer just a couch sat in the room; now a bed was in the middle against the wall, opposite an open balcony that was who knows how many feet above the sandy terrain. There was a fully stocked vanity next to the bed, and a door leading off into what she guessed was a grand bathroom with all the amenities. There was a throw rug on the floor, and a clock on the wall as well as a small table with two chairs on either side. All in all, a very nice room. She would have wanted this room back when she spent the days dazing around in her tiny room, looking for the slightest thing to do so that she could be freed of her boredom. Now, it didn't mean too much to her anymore. She was free, in a way.

It wasn't exactly what she would have wanted back when she first arrived, but five years of being held prisoner will do some odd things to your mind.

"Dinner will be served in ten minutes, Inoue-san." Ulquiorra announced, and she noticed that he used her name instead of 'Woman'. He was also being much more proper with her. Was this also a result of being a resident of Las Noches?

"Thank you, Schiffer-san." Her voice was smooth as silk, but it held a certain tone of something akin to nonchalant indifference. She didn't really care if it was a bigger room, but it somehow appeased a certain aspect of her that had wondered why she didn't get something like this from the beginning. The balcony was a suicide risk, of course, but now she didn't even care to try. None of it mattered; all she had left was Las Noches and the Arrancar. And Aizen himself, couldn't forget how Aizen was always going to be staring over her shoulder. She was as much a marionette as every other living thing here. Beside Aizen himself, of course.

The door shut behind her, and Orihime stepped forward to lie on her bed. It was cold; everything was always cold. She didn't much mind anymore. She was used to the cold, it had become familiar and comforting to her.

She laid on the bed, closing her eyes quietly as the Shun Shun Rikka buzzed around her soul, whispering comforting things to her. They tried to make her remember her friends. They tried to persuade her to remember Ichigo, to believe that he was coming. They had done it before; why not try again?

"Come on Hime, he's coming. Have faith." Shun`o whispered, sitting near her face. Hinagiku, Baigon, Lily, and Ayame all sat around the princess, offering comforting words to her. Only Tsubaki hung back, observing the look in Orihime's eyes. The other Shun Shun Rikka might not have wanted to recognize what was in her heart, but he saw it. He was based from that section of her soul, after all. He knew it, Tsubaki was the one that would willingly recognize it.

"Go away. All of you, leave. I…I don't want to hear it. You lie." Orihime spoke quietly, and Shun`o recoiled at the words.

"B…but Hime…" she began, before the woman sat up and looked at all of them.

"I made my decision, for my own good and for yours. Don't…don't make me regret it." Her words were decisive, and the six flowers returned to her hair clips. Orihime didn't want to be lied to, and she knew that what they were holding was the last bits of hope in her soul that were burning out like embers.

"…I don't want it anymore. Hope…hope died for me. Now, I'm going to be what I have to be. I won't die here, because of a silly thing like hope. I'm going to take control and think of myself for once."

She turned her eyes to the open balcony, to the backwards moon.

"I…I'm not anybody's princess anymore."

She stood, walking out to the balcony edge and looking out over the white expanse of Hueco Mundo. The last embers burned themselves out, and were replaced with something much more useful here. Pride. Self-reliance. Hatred towards her former friends. Anger at them for never coming. And the very last bits of orange so bright it burned the corneas disappeared from her soul.

"I'm going to be a queen."

**((Funny story with this chapter. I was looking up Stockholm syndrome on Wikipedia, to make sure I wasn't getting it mixed up with something else. And guess what the 'In Popular Culture' section said. Yeah, that's right; it stated the possibility of Orihime having Stockholm syndrome for Ulquiorra. Feel the pure irony of it. And be reminded that I had already written the Stockholm section before looking it up. I was coincidentally listening to Welcome to the Jungle when I wrote this chapter too. Review if you like the story, because when I don't get feedback, I tend to get bored and go off to work on another one. Thanks again!!))**


	3. The Beginnings of a Fruitless Rescue

Her new attitude changed it all.

* * *

Orihime was no longer the girl she had been before the Hueco Mundo incident. She was a woman now, confident and steely in her will. And everyone came to know this very quickly. Now, she walked tall in the hallways, unafraid of whoever may come. Aizen had given her consent to walk freely, and without a guard to come along after she displayed Tsubaki's unbridled power. Without hesitance in her heart, the destructive force was multiplied many times over. She was given permission to walk alone, and that anyone deciding to attack her could be dealt with in her discretion. And after the first one lost his head, the other Arrancar knew that she wasn't one to be messed with.

At the moment, she was returning to her room, quite tired from the walk. Las Noches was enormous; she had a feeling that she hadn't even seen a quarter of it. As the door opened, a particular group of reiatsus hit her like a ton of bricks. So familiar. She hadn't felt them in years.

They were her friends. And they were coming to save her.

Her hand lingered on the door a moment, before she walked in as if nothing at all had happened. And really, it hadn't. So what if they were coming? The group of five would no doubt be decimated anyway; Orihime knew the strength of her once-captors. Even if they did somehow survive long enough to get to her, then what would they say?

"Oh, sorry we didn't get here earlier. Not to our convenience."

Orihime muttered, sitting down on her bed with a hard glare focused on the wall. They had lost their chance a very long time ago; she was her own woman now, and Orihime wasn't the 'princess' they remembered. How would she live in the human world again anyway? Five years of looking over your shoulder, five years of matching violence with violence, five years of hatred and silence. How does one go from that world to one where a person is expected to be kind and nice to everyone by default?

"They may come if they wish. I'll be more than happy to see them."

She laid on her bed, now thinking back to her once-love Ichigo Kurosaki. She didn't want him any longer, not really. There would always be that flame there, embers that just wouldn't smother. But it was nowhere near love any longer; she didn't want him anywhere near her now. Rukia, the woman she once secretly loathed for taking her Kurosaki-kun? She didn't hate the woman anymore for that reason; now it was the question of why a shinigami with the power to enter Hueco Mundo at any time waited five years to do it. Abarai and herself weren't too close; she didn't speak with him often and they didn't seem to mind not speaking to each other. The same for Sado. Ishida, he was a special case. Orihime had seen him staring now and then, watching her bounce around and do this and that. But he was as guilty as the rest of them.

She heard her door open and rolled over a bit to look up at Ulquiorra Schiffer, who was standing before the normal food tray. It was much more decadent nowadays, seeing as Orihime was playing right into Aizen's plans perfectly. She sat up, standing a moment after and beginning to walk towards the food.

"You have noticed?"

He queried in monotone. She didn't pay him a single look.

"Of course I have. Those idiots are making a suicide run for a woman that no longer wishes to be saved."

She gathered her food, turning around and walking back towards her bed to sit down and begin eating. Ulquiorra remained the constant still statue, watching her with his thousand yard stare of the damned.

"They will die. You do not mind?"

She stopped eating for a moment, not looking up from her soup. Tomato, a kind she had found to rather enjoy.

"Not in the least. They are not my friends any longer; why would I care what happens to five strangers making a moronic decision?"

Her logic was as cold as his; she honestly didn't give a damn what those five did here, or if they lived or died. It wasn't her decision and it wasn't her problem. She twitched her head to try and flip back her long hair. It had once been the symbol of her trust in Tatsuki Arisawa and her other friends. Now it was cumbersome.

"Ulquiorra, I need a haircut."

It was a statement, not a question. Ulquiorra observed the thigh-length hair.

"Very well. I will have someone arrive later to cut it."

Orihime sipped the soup quietly, before taking a drink of her tea.

"No, I want you to do it. I don't trust anyone else here more than you."

Ulquiorra observed the woman with renewed interest. She had begun adapting, and had never stopped since that fateful day. His own visit had changed her life, apparently. He found that his soul was content with the knowledge of changing her life. Even though, in truth, Grimmjow was the one that started her evolution, Ulquiorra didn't know about it. He gave credit to himself.

"Very well, I will return at a later time."

She was done with her soup quickly enough; the bowl was put upon the tray and rolled away, while Ulquiorra lingered.

"Inoue-san. What will you do if by some fluke, you come face-to-face with them."

Orihime was sitting down again, but at that question, she began to smile. Not an insane Nnoitra grin, or a bloodthirsty Grimmjow expression, but a soft, demure smile. Raising her head, she closed her eyes and continued smiling.

"Well, I'll kill them."

It was a horrific statement spoken in an angel's voice. Ulquiorra merely watched her for any bits of trickery or deception, and upon finding none turned to leave.

"Good."

The door closed behind him, and Orihime stretched out as if the entire encounter hadn't happened.

"Well, I think I'll take a shower and a nap."

* * *


	4. Lost Bits of the Golden Age

The group of five moved along quickly, through the biting, whipping sands of Hueco Mundo. They consisted of three shinigami, two humans with spiritual powers and a Quincy. These three had arrived to save their friend, captive for five years in this hellish world. The leader was none other than the famed substitute shinigami Ichigo Kurosaki, wielding a monster of a Zanpakuto strapped to his back. His tiger orange hair was pulled back into a ponytail; it had grown out over the years and was left long for the whims of a certain woman. Said woman was running at his right, short black hair kept in shape and length through a blueblooded routine. Rukia Kuchiki, princess of the Kuchiki dynasty. She and Ichigo were not sharing glances or even acknowledgements of each other's existence at the moment; the two had been doing that a lot lately.

Behind her ran a heavily tattooed man with fire red hair, Renji Abarai. His Zanpakuto was at his hip, as was Rukia's on her. In recent times, Renji and Rukia had been spending more time together than she and Ichigo had. It was causing obvious tension between the two men, and they had ceased talking as of recent as well, only exchanging orders or a few words. Uryu Ishida was running beside Rukia, his white Quincy outfit blending with the sharp glass-like sand crunching beneath their feet. His hair was the exact same length, fastidiously monitored and kept short to stay out of his face. Behind him ran not the remaining member of the group that had raided Soul Society to save Rukia, Chad, but instead Tatsuki Arisawa. Chad had been killed awhile back in one of Aizen's surprise raids on Karakura; instead of his soul, which was training in Seireitei to aid in the delayed war, Tatsuki came along. She had been training with Urahara in the time they had been waiting for Aizen to make his move, and now had enough control over her powers to be allowed to come along. Finally the last member of their group who was currently hiding their reiatsu to nil was none other than Keigo Asano. His own powers had developed as well, and he had insisted on coming along; he could completely hide his reiatsu and was currently doing as such to keep the enemy off-guard about the number of invaders.

"Wow…look at that."

Keigo marveled at the large white castle that was Las Noches. Rukia looked up in slight awe. She slowed down a bit; Ichigo reached back and grabbed her by the forearm, dragging her forward roughly.

"Keep up, dammit!"

He half-shouted at her, and she snapped back at him while jerking her arm away from him.

"Go to hell, Ichigo. I'll run however fast I want to!"

The tension had been thick between the two, and Renji gave Ichigo a shove.

"Hey, not her fault Kurosaki. Quit being such an asshole."

Ichigo, Rukia and Renji came to a stop and began to quarrel, just below a shouting match fit for Jerry Springer.

"Don't touch me, Abarai. She's a slow ass, I'm going to damn well tell her!"

Uryu, Tatsuki and Keigo kept on running past the three, knowing that if they stayed behind then there'd be a whole lot of shit to deal with.

What nobody wanted to talk about was how everything had turned out after Orihime had been kidnapped. In those five years, they had all grown up considerably. Tatsuki was more adult than giving into fits of violence and tantrums, and was now able to see more clearly about her friends. She had become the master of a karate dojo in Tokyo, and was doing very well. Keigo was able to rein in the random weirdness, and could be as well-behaved as Mizuiro when he needed to. Which he did often, considering that he was in law school. Ishida and his father were still on fragile ground with one another, but it was a wonder Uryu had been able to get the time to come here at all. He was waist-deep in medical school right now and setting himself up to take over his father's hospital when the time came, while simultaneously balancing it with his Quincy career. Chad was dead, and last they had heard, he was going to become a shinigami with his own powers functioning instead of a Zanpakuto.

Renji shoved Ichigo back a couple steps, moving to stand in front of Rukia.

"Back the fuck off, Kurosaki."

He warned, and Ichigo was already in his face with a sudden shunpo.

"Make me, fucker."

Renji and Rukia were still shinigami. Abarai remained the Lieutenant Captain of Sixth division, under Byakuya. Rukia had, after the appeals of Ichigo and Renji both, finally been granted a seated position. She had advanced to Lieutenant of Thirteenth, and had proved herself more than capable of handling the position. At the moment, she and Ichigo were supposedly in a relationship. Two years to the day Orihime was kidnapped, actually, Ichigo and Rukia got together after Ichigo came and asked her personally. Renji had gone through a bout of binge drinking after this, telling Ikkaku and Yumichika over drinks that he was sure that Ichigo wasn't who he used to be. That the substitute shinigami had…changed. And sure enough, it had been proven true; not long after they got together, problems were very visible between them. Ichigo wasn't the nice guy anymore; he had changed to war, to the world he had been thrust into. Isshin had wanted him to take over the clinic, but Ichigo had instead moved out of Karakura to Kyoto and begun working the clubs there as a bouncer. Good money for an easy job. And over time, he had advanced past a bouncer to bodyguard certain shady people that Ichigo Kurosaki had no business being around. He and Rukia had been apart for a while, meeting every now and then in the short spans of free time they had between Ichigo's life and Rukia's shinigami duties.

And he was totally different when they had met up again a year ago, back in Karakura to aid in the protection of it. Tatsuki had a job to take care of and therefore couldn't be there the entire time. When she did return, however, she returned to see a more violent, short-tempered Ichigo that wasn't afraid to let his displeasure with Rukia be known. The two of them fought constantly now, though Rukia attempted to hide the evidence of anything physical. Bruises here and there, nothing that could be seen without close scrutiny. Nothing that couldn't be explained away by fighting hollows. Byakuya, however, was much colder to Ichigo than he had been beforehand, and the two were openly hostile to one another. Renji himself was hanging around Rukia more often, and she was shutting Ichigo out more and more. It was obvious that Renji and Rukia were more than just friends now; just not obvious enough for Ichigo to be able to explain away any sort of violence he might want to inflict on the two.

"Hey dipshits! They'll find out we're here if we don't fucking hurry!"

Tatsuki shouted back, and the three stopped. They glared at each other, before Ichigo grabbed Rukia around the waist and pulled her against him while glaring at Renji.

"Come on Rukia."

In a flash, he was shunpoing away from Renji with a combative Rukia in his arms. When he thought that nobody would see, he gave her a good hard jerk that no doubt gave her whiplash at such a high speed of movement, acting as if he didn't notice. Rukia glared up at him through tears of pain, choosing not to say anything right now for the mission's sake. She would handle Ichigo later, she and Renji together. Right now, Orihime was captive and no doubt still waiting for them to save her. Poor Orihime, undoubtedly still tormented with being around the..._things_...that she'd been a captive of for years.

Saving Orihime was exactly why they had all come. Most often, it was for the same reasons. Tatsuki had missed Orihime terribly, though she had been able to replace the girl with new friends and for a good while, was happy enough to forget about Orihime near completely. Renji and Rukia had been tied up in their duties when that brief window of opportunity back right after Orihime was kidnapped had closed. And Rukia had been busy with Ichigo and his temper. Uryu had been tied up in medical school, though he had been so busy with work as to be able to press Orihime out of his mind for a while. He wanted her back, because he owed her. Keigo just tagged along to help out, and a little bit of it was so that he could play hero, like Ichigo did.

Why did Ichigo come? Nobody knew, because he wouldn't tell anyone and they didn't ask. All they knew was that he had kept in touch for the past month, the group setting up for a raid to save Orihime. Even though they had no way to know if Orihime was even still alive, they were all willing to risk it. For the past month, Ichigo had kept in contact with them and Urahara, who was setting up the Gargantua. A week ago, they had all returned to Karakura and converged at Orihime's old apartment, empty after the complex had been condemned. They had met up, caught up, began to plot and scheme. And it had all resulted in this: They were making an attempt on a veritable fortress, for someone they didn't even know was living or not. But they were here, each for their own reason. Each to kick some ass, respectively.

"I can feel her reiatsu!"

Ishida shouted, running ahead for the white building. All kept running, target set and one thing in mind:

Save Orihime.

Unnoticeable to all, Ichigo smirked viciously at the statement.

"Yeah, me too."

He had come here for his own reasons, and damn it if they wouldn't play out correctly. They would. He was going to make sure that in the end, he got what he wanted.

A princess.


	5. Killing Intent

She was waiting. Waiting for them to arrive, waiting for someone to attempt at sweeping her off her feet. Orihime was in her room, watching out the window quietly. She could feel them coming, could tell that something big was going down in Hueco Mundo. And it was all for her.

"What flattery." She stated in a cold, dull tone. It didn't matter to her, not like it would have five years ago. Five years ago, she would have been worried sick over them. Now she was curious in a sick kind of way.

"I wonder how long they're going to survive."

As the open question left her lips, Orihime noted the sound of a door opening behind her. Two pairs of footsteps, two familiar reiatsus. Turning slightly, she observed Menoly and Loly, no doubt coming to make trouble with her. They had done it often in the beginning, and must have worked up the chutzpah to do it again.

"Hey princess, your friends are here. I wonder how long it's going to be before someone kills them?" Loly sneered, attempting to get a rise out of Orihime. She had known that the human had changed drastically from her old self, but might possibly be weak from her friends arriving. Orihime merely sighed very quietly, looking from them and back out the window.

"I was wondering that myself." She said in a very dull and disinterested tone. It wasn't her problem until they showed up, because when they did she would be able to show them what their tardiness had done to her. What they had done to their princess. This apparently wasn't enough for Loly, as she strode forward and seized Orihime by her long hair, jerking her around to look in her eyes.

"Really? Pretty bitchy not to be helping your friends, huh? Maybe Menoly and I should remind you that whatever the fuck kind of pride you've got right now, we can take it away." She threatened, expecting tears or something akin to sadness or fear.

What she got was much, much different.

"Koten Zanshun." Orihime spoke, closing her eyes. Before Loly could do a thing, Orihime's hairclips glowed and Tsubaki was freed. Like all the other Shun Shun Rikka, his appearance had changed dramatically as Orihime's soul had. The small fairy's scarf covering his mouth and nose was now a deep blood red, and trailed down his back to sweep at his feet. His hair was a bit longer, now in a short braid and he was wearing a fully black outfit. Orihime's killing will had strengthened; Tsubaki was now complete in the way he had once wished for. Orihime had a killing intent, and it was solidified as he zipped along Loly's arm to the tune of Orihime's words.

"I reject."

The next noise that could be heard was screaming, bloodcurdling screams as Loly staggered back with her arm split lengthwise all the way to the shoulder. Her grip on Orihime's hair faded as she staggered back, holding her ruined arm. She was still screeching, unintelligible things, jumbled threats and swears. Menoly jumped to action, firing a cero at Orihime's head.

"Santen Kesshun. I reject."

The shield jumped before Orihime's figure, the cero reflecting off of the shield and right back at Menoly. It caught the left side of her face, cutting through cleanly and leaving her with half a head. She collapsed, and Loly screamed her name. Orihime's shield crumbled, and she watched Loly with disinterest. With one more threat, she lunged at Orihime with Zanpakuto drawn.

"I'll fucking kill you!! I'll kill every one of your fucking friends!!" She roared, coming at Orihime with killing intent. At this moment, Orihime finally smiled. It was cold, cruel, and mirthless. The smirk of a fallen angel taking untold pleasure in dragging others down into her own joyless hell.

"Kill me? I died five years ago; there is nothing to kill. All I wish is to make those five outside that think themselves my friends know what they have done to me."

With that said, she lost the small cold smile and gestured at Loly dismissively.

"Koten Zanshun."

Tsubaki came full force at her again, and Loly could only watch as the small fairy doubled the size of the shield as he came towards her. The last thing that she would hear is the two words from the woman across the room as her fairy split the Arrancar in half.

"I reject."

* * *

Ulquiorra walked to Orihime's room, not expecting the bloodbath that met his eyes when he entered.

The ruined bodies of Menoly and Loly littered the floor, dying the white a deep vermilion. It was almost painful in comparison to the white that nearly everyone in Las Noches was accustomed to, but Ulquiorra traced the footsteps of blood to the far side of the room, where Orihime Inoue was sitting. She was once again staring out her window, blood from Loly's death staining her clothes and caking her long hair. She did not turn at his entrance, but merely spoke to him.

"Ulquiorra. I was accosted by these two. I expect the room to be cleaned once I return from my shower." She ordered him like a queen, and a queen she was. No longer was she a useless pacifist, unable to protect those she held dear to her. No, she was still unable to protect those dear to her because she held none dear to her. Ulquiorra watched as the food tray was pushed in after him, and the two lowly Numero ran off at the carnage within. Useless trash.

"Very well. I assume you still wish your hair cut?" He queried dully, and she nodded while standing.

"Yes, it is getting in the way. And it absorbs too much blood when there is blood nearby." Orihime stated dismissively, stopping at the bodies of the two Arrancar. A sick sort of smile crossed her face for the quickest moment, as she turned to face the two.

"Soten Kisshun." She began, and the fairies surrounded the bodies of the two female Arrancar.

"I reject."

The healing was extremely quick, and the two were whole again in moments. Ulquiorra was slightly confused as to why she had done this.

"Why did you restore them if they attacked you?" He asked of her, and she turned to him with that same cold smile.

"What better sort of torment is there than to owe your life to a hated enemy? They owe their lives to me now, and it will no doubt torment them. You Arrancar are prideful things anyway. Just like humans."

Ulquiorra watched as Orihime went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He sighed under his breath and looked back to the returned Numero, fearful over what Ulquiorra's reaction might be to their fleeing earlier.

"Take the two women out and leave them in a hallway away from here. I want this blood cleaned up as well, and a new uniform for Inoue-san." He ordered in monotone, and the Numero complied sheepishly. Each took one of the girls and sonidoed away, as Ulquiorra closed the door behind him and waited. The woman was undoubtedly changed, and for the better in Aizen's respect. She was cold, emotionless, perfectly capable of killing.

Whenever the humans arrived, it would be quite the show to see them meet their princess once again.


	6. The Death of Beauty

**((Brand new chapter, now Ichigo-centric to clear up some things that made no sense in chapter four. Many, many thanks to AlleluiaElizabeth for helping me with seeing a few problems.))**

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Ah, this was the life. The life!

Ichigo ran along the white corridors of Las Noches, Nel at his heels. Ugh, the damn kid was annoying! He just wanted to punt it down one of these hallways. But he couldn't do that…no…he had to at least _pretend_ to be Ichigo. Oh, how his friends would lament if they found out that the real Ichigo had been lost a long, long time ago.

Funny. Very funny how a soul works when it's going under the stress of constantly leaving and reentering the living body, containing explosive and frankly unstable reiatsu and having a hollow inside of it, all at the same time. Not to mention that Ichigo had been young when all of this fell on him. Fifteen. A band of ex-shinigami centuries older than Ichigo had had enough trouble with their hollows, and they had years of experience and control!

That's what gave him the opportunity.

It had been the reason Ichigo left. Ichigo left in the first place without attempting a rescue back then because of his own hollow troubles; he could feel that his soul was in danger, and so he distanced himself from his friends to protect them. Poor, poor Ichigo Kurosaki. He was engulfed in his own black fire, and reborn anew.

'_That's why the hollow's the king now, baby!' _Hichigo thought with a slight smile. He was good enough at putting on the act for Ichigo, and his dear Rukia-chan was good enough at hiding bruises so that a rain of fluttery pink sword petals didn't mince her precious boyfriend. Besides, he knew not to hit her face or anything. That's just stupid; only wife beaters hit their women in the face. The hollow usually just left bruises in places where Rukia-chan's blue-blooded brother wouldn't be looking.

Wouldn't be looking if he wasn't a freak, anyway.

Hichigo wasn't a wife beater. Rukia wasn't his wife, she was his…what was she? Girlfriend? No, that sounded too high school-ish. Lover sounded too romantic.

Cumdumpster!! That was the word he was looking for. Yes, Hichigo considered Rukia his cute little cumdumpster. But she was getting smarter, which was a shame. Too singular, too outspoken a girl for him. He needed someone that would just fawn over him, someone that would do anything he wanted.

And that was his Orihime-chan.

Hichigo had been living the life, out there in Kyoto. Booze, bimbos, and all the parties he could handle in Ichigo's human body. But he was tired of bimbos. They were there one night and then they were gone, sometimes with his wallet. He wanted someone that would get his stuff out for him, clean the apartment and do the laundry and make dinner and other stuff Hichigo didn't feel like doing…ever, tend to him when he was hung over, and most of all, not steal his fucking wallet while he was passed out on a billiards table or something.

From what he remembered of Orihime, she was exactly the girl to do that for him. He just had to keep up the image of her Ichigo enough so that she wouldn't leave. All he'd have to do was throw her a bone every now and then, maybe sitting with her somewhere and telling her how pretty she was. Or some kind of shit like that, Hichigo didn't particularly know much about being romantic. Maybe he could watch Lifetime or something, get a feel for how…wait, Lifetime was the channel with all the movies about husbands beating their wives. Ironic.

Oh yeah, now and then Ichigo would act up. Poor kid was still barely conscious somewhere deep inside his own soul, attempting to break free and stop Hichigo from abusing Rukia or carrying out any of his plans with Orihime. They could talk to each other like they did back when Ichigo was in control, and Hichigo narrated all of his plans to Ichigo and told him (in painful detail) about what he was going to do to Orihime when he got a hold of her.

It was funny!

Hichigo liked most of Ichigo's friends, in that 'You'd be fun to kill' kind of way. That Tatsuki sure had a mouth on her. He would've appreciated it, if he hadn't have found her insufferable. Hichigo was the dominant one; he made sure that he was. Tatsuki was too outspoken for his tastes, and maybe it was Rukia that was making her like that. Or Ishida. It could be Ishida doing it instead. Whenever Hichigo needed to blame someone for what was usually his own screw up, he'd just blame it on Ishida influencing the universe to make his life shit. It worked real well. Damn Ishida.

Now, once he got his Orihime-chan, he'd need to get rid of his Rukia-chan. And just dumping her wasn't an option; she'd blab to her 'honorable older brother' and Byakuya Kuchiki would personally come and turn him into a smear on the ground. Ichigo kicked his ass once, but Hichigo wasn't too sure that he wanted to mess with lots of little fluttery deadly objects spinning around his face. Seemed like too much trouble. And then there would be the problem of Abarai to deal with.

Well, he would just have to kill both Renji and Rukia while they were here.

Kill off Rukia so she didn't tell their dirty little secret, and kill Renji because Hichigo just didn't like Renji moving in on what was currently still his territory. Didn't appreciate it one little bit. Wouldn't be a stretch to say that they were killed in combat with an Arrancar or Espada or some shit, and all Hichigo had to do was kill them and leave. That was it. So easy. He had come to Hueco Mundo for those two objectives; kill Rukia and get Orihime. Damn Soul Society made it hard enough to carry out though.

Hichigo took control not long after Orihime was kidnapped. But when he got good at playing the part of Ichigo, Seireitei banned all forms of travel to Hueco Mundo and Kisuke Urahara was put under twenty-four seven surveillance, rendering him unable to set up a Gargantua. Unable to carry out a rescue mission, the various members of the old gang went on with their lives and waited for the time when they could get Orihime back.

They may have missed their friend, but life wouldn't stop just for Orihime Inoue.

They went about their lives, planning for their futures. Over time, it was easier and easier to put the thought of Hueco Mundo and Orihime Inoue entirely out of their minds. When they finally got the time, when Aizen began making more attacks on Japan with his hollows and all available shinigami were called out (including Urahara's guards), Hichigo went back to Karakura and set up with Urahara, getting a Gargantua whipped up while Hichigo called back all their friends. Ishida was honoring some sort of agreement with his father or some shit and gone to medical school, but he got a break and made it back. Tatsuki put her job on hold and was the very first back. Keigo got the call and skipped law school to come back, telling them it was bereavement. Renji and Rukia didn't ask for leave at all and just showed up at the Shoten, stating that they were going too. Hichigo was waiting for them all, waiting with Ichigo's smile and a dark purpose in his heart.

Ichigo didn't take the chance to get her back five years ago, and he paid for it. Dearly.

'_Well, that's what happens when you're selfish.'_ Hichigo thought to himself, not giving a second thought of the hypocrisy in that mental statement coming from someone like him. That, or the fact that he himself was the cause of Ichigo's departure. He heard Ichigo in the back of his head as they turned a corner, shouting at him.

_'Don't you do it, you bastard!'_ Ichigo shouted from where he was chained down in his inner world, trapped there for so long. The sharp, insane and terrifying laughter echoed through his inner world, as Hichigo laughed at the former King.

_'Aw, Pony boy, don't be like that. You should be happy! I'm going to make Orihime think you're as much of a Romeo as she used to think you were. It'll be just. Like. Rukia.'_

Ichigo screamed obscenities towards the sky, and only heard phantom chuckles before he tired out again and went silent. Hichigo continued on his way, set on grabbing Orihime, castrating Abarai and then slitting Rukia open as he shrieked in laughter like the hollow he was, watching her bleed out and all her organs fall out. Maybe he'd get to rip them out by hand, watch her stare on in terror.

Fuck, maybe they'd share a lovely bloody kiss before she went.

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**((Short chapter, but I'm working hard on set-up before the big meeting happens. Thanks again for reading, you guys.))**


	7. Don't Trust Me

Tatsuki Arisawa was catching her breath after defeating Gantebainne Mosqueda, who was lying on the sands before her. It had been a difficult battle, but she had triumphed in the end. Now she had to find Orihime in the vast white complex of Las Noches. More than anything, Tatsuki wanted to hug the girl, her best friend. She wanted to hold her and tell her that they were sorry that they couldn't have come earlier, that Tatsuki had always wanted to come. She wouldn't say, however, how they had all gone on with their lives and actually put other things before her. They were human, and they had human lives. Orihime was in another dimension and they couldn't reach her; it wasn't like they could sit around in Karakura forever and just wait. So everyone tried to put it out of their minds, graduation happened without Orihime Inoue, and everyone went on their separate ways. It had torn Tatsuki up to do that, but it was necessary for her own life to go on. Five years she was in Tokyo, owning and teaching in her own dojo. She loved her job; and when she got free time, she would practice with her spiritual powers on those hollows in Tokyo. It was difficult at first, and she nearly died. But as she got more powerful, more proficient at her abilities, was able to grow stronger over time. Through time though, Tatsuki's fire to find and protect Orihime was slowly smothered down to embers by real life and the problems that wouldn't wait for her to save her friend. She was able to push it out of her main concerns in order to take care of bills and the dojo building and all the other problems, though Orihime always remained in her mind. She just became…Tatsuki hated to admit it, but Orihime was put behind other problems.

One thing reignited Tatsuki's fire to find and rescue Orihime. When they all gathered again for the funeral of Sado Yasutora, killed in a raid by Aizen's men. Their shinigami friends came in gigai, and Chad himself came in soul form. He couldn't wear a gigai, for obvious reasons. Ichigo had been…different, Tatsuki remembered. He wasn't quite the same since he left, and he was acting odd when he left for Kyoto. But now he was just…different. They had all gathered for the funeral, said their goodbyes, to both the body and to Chad's soul itself, swore vengeance. And they all remembered Orihime, and swore a rescue for her would come soon. Two years later, it did. And that was right now.

"Orihime…just wait for me…" Tatsuki said to herself, quietly. A new reiatsu became apparent to her, and she stopped to see a new, tall figure that hadn't been there a moment ago. A very tall, skinny man with a spoon hood, an eye patch, long black hair and a smile that could probably kill small children. He had a huge weapon that the woman could only assume to be his Zanpakuto on his shoulders, and she dimly heard Gantebainne tell her to flee. Tatsuki stopped, glaring up at this man who was leering at her. "Who are you?" She asked him guardedly, and he laughed in a shrill, creeping sort of way. "Who wants to know?" He asked her with that same child-killing grin, and Tatsuki scoffed. "The hell you think I'm telling you?" She lunged, preparing to attack him as she ran towards him. He didn't even try to move as she slammed her fist into his chest, attempting to do what she did with all her hollow victims. By pressing her reiatsu into a living thing's body, she could make it erupt and blow holes in the victim. Given enough reiatsu, she could even blow some apart.

"That all you've got?" She heard his voice, and stared up in horror at his grinning face. It didn't work; his skin was like steel and she could feel that her fingers were broken from punching him so hard. Instantly, she caught a kick to the side of the head that made her see stars, and she was sent flying. Briefly did Tatsuki catch the sight of ugly curled Peter Pan boots and his face, no longer grinning but now disgusted. As soon as she hit the sand, Tatsuki rolled onto her feet and ignored the protests of her broken fingers, shaking them out while keeping her eyes on the lanky man. "You're fuckin' weak, you know that?" The man called, and that disgusted tone in his voice along with what he called her made Tatsuki's blood boil. "You're pretty goddamn ugly, Madame Prada." She sneered, and he looked pissed as soon as the words left her mouth. Feeling the slight breeze of something moving extremely quickly behind her, Tatsuki rolled just in time to dodge the huge blade swinging in a trajectory to decapitate her. Ignoring the pain in her hand, she turned and made a kick towards whatever she could connect with. It caught his foreleg but once again, nothing happened and her foot was promptly grabbed, and as he squeezed tightly, Tatsuki heard the bones in her leg crack. She screamed, before cutting it off and twisting from his grip, now heavily crippled. Gantebainne was still saying something or other about retreating, but now Tatsuki had no choice but to stay and fight. Not that she could have outrun a sonido anyway.

"…What's your name." She asked him, and he blinked his one slitted eye, before answering dismissively. "Nnoitra Jiruga." He told her, as they both remained still. Gesturing his huge weapon to her, Jiruga spoke. "Yours?" He more or less demanded, and she spat into the sand before answering. "Tatsuki Arisawa."

They both remained still and silent a moment longer, sizing each other up before both lunged forward, Tatsuki jerking to the side enough to only feel his blade skim along the top of her arm, shearing off all three layers of skin as it did before she jammed that hand over his face, palm flat against his features. He stared down in surprise at her and she finally smirked a bit, before Tatsuki blasted a concentrated beam of reiatsu straight through his eye patch, watching it zip through his head and along the sands only to explode a minute later. He was still, and for a moment, Tatsuki had thought she'd won.

That moment was shattered when her wrist was grabbed tightly, to where she wouldn't be able to escape from his grip. He was staring off above her, looking unimpressed and bored. "Nice try kid, but no dice." He told her with a slowly growing grin, moving her hand to show Tatsuki the hollow hole she'd shot through. Tatsuki stared on in pure shock, at the pure luck (or bad luck) that she'd shot directly through that hole. In a quick movement, he jerked her hand backwards and snapped it at the wrist as it bent backwards in a sick contortion, and he laughed in sick amusement at her scream. Shoving her down onto the sands, Nnoitra placed a curled boot on her chest and pressed down hard, laughing in a shrill cackle as she gasped for air, and couldn't even scream as he heard a rib crack. He was about to press harder and crack some more, before a voice caught his attention.

"Nnoitra-sama, Aizen's orders were-" Tesla began from his place leaning against the hole in the white wall of Las Noches, before the huge crescent bladed weapon slammed into the wall next to him. Dangerously close to him, actually. He stared up at Nnoitra, who was glaring hard. "Shut the fuck up, Tesla. I remember what Aizen ordered." He growled, before looking down to the intruder under his curled boot. Scoffing, he quickly slammed his heel into her hip and heard the crack, ignoring her scream to drag Tatsuki up by the arm and toss her to Tesla roughly.

"Drag this piece of shit off then." Nnoitra ordered, and Tesla gave a subservient nod. He dragged the barely-conscious Tatsuki through the halls of Las Noches, to a fate Aizen had deemed for her. She quietly spoke the name "Orihime" before blacking out.

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**((Short chapter, but I'm more or less deciding to show the rescue attempt and thoughts on the rescue itself person-by-person, before the big meeting between Orihime and everyone. Thanks again for reading.))**


	8. Love with a Lack of Color

Soft snipping sounds filled the white room as Ulquiorra Cifer cut the hair of Orihime Inoue, her long orange tresses floating down to the floor soundlessly. She had asked it of him personally, and he had agreed to do it himself. Why, she didn't know, but he had and was carrying out that promise right now. She sat at the window, watching the duel between Tatsuki Arisawa and Nnoitra Jiruga silently, and Ulquiorra could see the side of her profile and noted that she kept a distant, uninterested look on her face even as Tatsuki fell. Ulquiorra continued on, until her hair was just barely brushing her shoulders. "I am finished." Ulquiorra told her, and she turned away from the window as Nnoitra followed Tesla within the wall of Las Noches, looking in the mirror. She flipped it a bit, before nodding at his reflection. "Very good. Thank you, Ulquiorra." She told him, turning around and walking past.

Immediately, Orihime froze and glanced back at Ulquiorra, who had a hold on her wrist. She turned her cold gray eyes up to his vivid emerald pair, her stare just as piercing as his. "What are you doing, Ulquiorra?" She asked dully, and he pulled her back towards him with a slight tug. It was with an odd sort of interest that he stared straight through her, and she didn't flinch even a moment from the piercing gaze. That was completely new to him. "You...interest me." He told her quite plainly, and Orihime scoffed. "Interest? In what, pray tell?" She asked incredulously, taking a step back from him in an annoyed sort of way. Ulquiorra let her go, putting his hands back in his pockets. "Your adaptability. Most humans of your temperament when you were taken would have collapsed in on themselves by now and died." He told her plainly, and she scoffed again. "That was back then, when I was an airhead. Thought everyone had good in them, that I would be saved and helped, other silly things like that." Orihime spoke with spite in her voice, and Ulquiorra stared on. "Then you have abandoned hope?" He queried, cocking his head ever so slightly. Orihime stopped, closed her eyes gently and then began to laugh in a merry sort of way.

"Ulquiorra, hope never lived. I was dragging around its corpse for years, chained at the wrist to a skeleton. Recently, I actually saw it for the pile of bones it was, clicked off the handcuffs and left it to rot." Orihime told Ulquiorra, smiling just as warmly as she had to her friends five years ago. He stared on, his thoughts masked as always as Orihime dropped the smile and turned on her heel, heading to her dresser and smoothing her clothes out in the mirror. "In any case, I can feel them fighting the Espada. It's quite useless on their end, really. Tatsuki already fell to Nnoitra, Rukia is up against the Novena, and losing from the feel of it, Renji and Uryu seem to have encountered Aporro Grantz, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." Orihime muttered, bored. Ulquiorra walked and stood beside her, turning her head gently and staring straight into her eyes. "You don't care?" He asked her, curiously, and she shook her head. "Not in the least." Orihime told Ulquiorra, before feeling him kiss her. It was a test, she knew that for a fact. He was the kind of person to do anything to understand something that he didn't know through and through, and the face heel turn of Orihime Inoue was something that the Arrancar hadn't experienced before. And at the moment, he was testing how little she really cared. Neither of them closed their eyes, staring straight into one another's pair. After another moment of intense staring, he broke the kiss and she stepped back, still looking bored, but with a strangely serious light in her eyes.

"There, were you trying to see if I would melt like a schoolgirl in your arms? No, that era is long past. I want attention, I want affection, I still want that." Orihime turned, heading back to the window and staring at the bloody patch on the glassy white Hueco Mundo sands. Ulquiorra remained silent, as she continued. "Right now, I don't have the time nor do I have the interest. Possibly when my saviors meet their ends, we can attempt something. But it won't be easy, not in the slightest. I don't know if I have the capacity to love again at all." Orihime told him, glancing back over her shoulder with a slight smile, something that had become alien to her lips. It didn't feel right to her anymore, though she kept it up. "And besides, you don't love me right now either. I'm something interesting, not something you'd die for. I really don't want to be something you'd die for, actually." She was messing with the sleeve of her uniform, distractedly. Ulquiorra could see the barest traces of her past self's nervousness showing through right then, as she went on and he listened. "There's a chance it could happen between us. It's a small chance, admittedly, but it's higher than it was when I was first brought here. I've lost this idiotic naivety, traded it in for your cynical and detached view of the world. The world has lost it's color. I only see in whites and blacks."

Ulquiorra listened to her, closing his eyes a moment after she finished. "The world never had colors. They were illusions of the mind, a feeble mind's invention to validate fate through refracted light. They mask tragedies, blind the broken and the weak to the truth in rainbow blankets. Only when one abandons colors and the skeleton of Hope, do they see the world for what it is. The whites and blacks." He spoke, his words crisp through the stagnant air of the room. "We are beings alike in that manner. The husks of humans that gave up colors to see through them, see everything clearly in monochrome."

Orihime turned back and looked him dead in the eye, keeping that small smile on her lips. Her skin was pale from lack of sunlight, not paper white like his but ghostly pale and only barely different. Her lips had lost color as well, once bright gray eyes dull in cynicism and her vivid orange hair lost of glossy shine. Las Noches had stolen the life from her, left Orihime Inoue just as lachrymose as Ulquiorra Cifer. He'd always been there with her, as a captor, as her only friend, as the object of which the embers of her dead heart were being stoked for once again. Maybe someday, something would develop, in a physical sense. But not right now. She smiled, the dead angel Orihime Inoue smiled warmly to Ulquiorra, laughing very softly.  
"Then let us be allies in the lack of color in our eyes and in our souls. Maybe, we could even be lovers, maybe you could steal my breath away and take the red from my blood, leave it black." She spoke softly, reaching out to him. They weren't far from each other, within arm's length as Ulquiorra reached out as well, taking her slightly warm hand in his own cold one. Their skin tones were barely any different, though his black nails did stand out glaringly against her flesh. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gently and speaking against her barely warm skin. "Once they die, once I remove anything of your old self from you...I will." Ulquiorra told her, and she laid her palm against his cheek. "Thank you, Ulquiorra. I look forward to it." Orihime told him, as he very slightly leaned his face into her hand and closed his eyes. After a serene moment, she dropped her hand at the same time as he stepped back, and the two of them turned back in their own opposite directions as Orihime leaned to look out the window and Ulquiorra headed for the door. The both of them knew that something had already developed, a bond that was quickly growing to something much more than just trust. Lima syndrome and Stockholm syndrome, both developed between captor and captive. They wordlessly agreed that when Orihime's former friends were dead, when their blood painted the floors of Las Noches, then they would allow it to happen and indulge in some twisted sort of colorless romance.

Their pact would be signed with Ichigo Kurosaki's blood.


	9. Scalpel Sonata

Uryu Ishida stood opposite the monstrous release form of the Octava Espada, Szayel Aporro Grantz, breathing through his teeth. The Arrancar almost reminded him of a parasitic worm, something he'd read on in passing at one point in time or another. _'A helminthe. Disgusting.' _Ishida thought to himself, listening to the hollow go on and on about this and that. Not even Seele Schneider's Sprenger coupled with Abarai's Zabimaru and Kido explosion could bring him down for too long, though watching the hollow viciously devour his own Fraccion had made the young man's stomach churn a bit, as had the cries of that Verona Fraccion shouting the name 'Lumina! Lumina!!' over and over again, despairing. There was no doubt, he would destroy this monster.

And then...he would retrieve Orihime. He'd take her away from here, back to the Living World with him. Uryu Ishida wasn't a jealous man, but he wanted Orihime all for his own. That was a certainty, to Uryu at least.

At the moment, Szayel Aporro was finishing his transformation into his release form, his Resurreccion, as they called it. From the investigative powers the Espada had shown so far, their chances of victory were dimming with every single moment passing. Grantz's golden eyes rolled down to their human forms, smiling victoriously.

"At last, the beginning of the long-awaited second act." Szayel spoke robustly, before seeming to quiet and think upon that a moment. "...No, let's revise that a bit." He spoke, before beginning again with a slowly dropping smile. "Rather, at last, the second act..." He trailed off, losing any bits of amusement and staring right through Abarai and Ishida.

"Draws to a close."

At that moment, Szayel leaned forward and what appeared to be black ink exploded from his back, raining down upon them. Dondochakka was the first to be hit, and Uryu gaped as a doppelganger was created from the ink-like substance hitting him. "Dodge it! Don't let it touch-" Uryu shouted, before feeling something hot and thick landing on his shoulder. He stared down at it, feeling more of the hot and sticky fluid hitting him all over.

"Fu-"

Instantly, four or five doppelgangers rose from the ink splotches, and Uryu whirled around to see that Renji had four or five doppelgangers of his own, as did Pesche and Dondochakka. Szayel went on again, going on about how taking their doppelgangers lightly would invite death and all that. Their powers were released though, and Uryu was quickly busied with dodging a death-press from Dondochakka. They didn't have the time for this! All they were really doing was playing around with clones, and he knew this to be true as Pesche and Dondochakka began to waylay on Renji, and Szayel watched on in poorly disguised amusement at either their antics or their idiocy. Ishida would put his money on idiocy.

The distinctions between doppelgangers and originals was quickly explained away by the mad hollow doctor himself, and Ishida could have spat at the pure vanity of the Octava. Disgusting beast. They needed to hurry, Ishida was a man of urgency...he wanted to get this over with and get to Orihime. She was what he had aimed for ever since they arrived in this hellish place, she was his only reason for coming here. He had been the first to arrive at Ichigo's summons for a rescue mission, though the others would never know it. Ishida had arrived frist, yet he had spent a day in a hotel waiting for the others to show up and make themselves known before doing the same himself, to keep suspicion low.

Uryu Ishida had always held a burgeoning affection towards Orihime Inoue, though it would only very rarely become even the slightest bit noticeable. It had begun when she joined the sewing club and made herself acquainted with him. At very first, she seemed nice but a bit dim. Not quite dim, actually, but a bit...spacey. As if she had intelligence but it just wasn't showing through her natural silliness. Yes, in the days before Ichigo Kurosaki had afflicted his friends with spiritual powers and awareness of the afterlife, Orihime had been outwardly kind and happy, naive to a fault. She and Uryu had only been acquaintances, and though he couldn't say he didn't enjoy her presence, Ishida wasn't affectionate or any more friendly towards her than he was with anyone else.

That all began to change, however, when Rukia was taken and Ishida had decided to accompany Ichigo and company to Soul Society. He had told them that it was for vengeance against the shinigami that had defeated him in his earlier attempt to protect Rukia. Everyone else only_ thought_they knew the real reason he came, to save Rukia himself. But they were wrong, completely so.

Truth be told, Uryu had gone to protect Orihime. It wasn't love at that point in time, nothing close. Just a particular...fondness for her that he couldn't quite place. The ideas of affection were quickly dispelled, replaced with his self-assertions of nothing more than friendship. With Kurosaki he had a rival. With Rukia he had an acquaintance. Uryu and Sado Yasutora barely spoke, knew very little about one another. So his fondness for Orihime was written off as a true friendship and nothing more. And Uryu found that it was lucky that he had gone along with her, for the little altercation with that one that called himself the 'Sickle Weasel', or whatever absurd name he had gone on about. Then again, maybe she would never have met the 'Kamaitaichi' or something, if only he had not been there with her. Once again with the meeting between themselves and that psychopathic Captain, Mayuri Kurotsuchi. Orihime, however, protected him from the living bombs at the beginning of the fight, however, and Uryu found himself in quiet amazement at her six little fairies. Their healing capabilities were highly impressive, and Inoue quickly became pivotal in their time within Seireitei.

What left a bad taste in his mouth, however, was her obvious love towards Kurosaki Ichigo. He had absolutely no knowledge of what was right in his face, and Ishida found himself, for the first time in his life, envious. He watched her grow more and more afflicted with this love for the substitute shinigami that had no interest in her, when Ishida himself was practically completely open to her attentions. After they left Soul Society, classes resumed and his powers were lost. It had been a slap to the face, really, as she ignored him and focused on Kurosaki, though Uryu had been left powerless and Kurosaki's powers only grew. Then again, if Orihime had come to pity him he wouldn't have had a bit of it, would've sent her away solely for his pride. That had been a major flaw in his feelings for Inoue, which had grown to something he couldn't ignore. His Quincy pride wasn't going to let him go down to a normal, humble place in asking for her attention through one way or another. No, he couldn't bear to humble himself like that. She would've had to come to him, and that was quite impossible with how enamored with Ichigo she was at the time.

So Uryu waited. And he waited too long.

As Abarai used his Bankai and destroyed the facility, as Szayel snapped him up in his wing-like appendages and made that tacky little voodoo doll, and as the Octava crushed his stomach, Uryu could only remember the morning he'd found that Orihime had been kidnapped. The world had taken on a surreal quality, and he had felt so detached from the world. Even more so when he had learned that there would be no effort to retrieve her from the clutches of Aizen and his cronies, who could be doing only god-knows-what with her at that very moment in time. And what did everyone else do, when they found out that she was gone?

Absolutely nothing.

Their golden group of close friends united through an invisible war had slowly broken apart. Ichigo left for Kyoto or somewhere like that, Tatsuki had gone to Tokyo, Yasutora remained in Karakura, Abarai and Rukia went back to Soul Society with the other shinigami, and Ishida found himself alone in the inability to forget Orihime. There were sufficient memory erasings for her classmates, her teachers, documents being altered, and only a lucky few escaped them. So when graduation happened, it happened without Orihime Inoue ever existing.

And all their reasons for not rescuing Orihime? For not even _trying_? Idiotic. Stupid! Of all the people there, Ishida would have thought Arisawa would've moved Heaven and Earth to save Orihime. Kurosaki shoud've at least done...done **something**! But no, no he didn't. He just ran off to a new life, all of them did. Ishida wanted to save her, even if he had to do it himself. Even if he knew it would've been a suicide mission. He even went to Kisuke Urahara to see if there was a way to go to Hueco Mundo and save her himself. But Urahara was under twenty-four/seven surveillance by shinigami, and didn't have the time needed to set up a Gargantua, as he called it. And he told Uryu, point-blank: _"Even if I could, Ishida-san, I wouldn't. You're just a kid in love, you're not thinking straight. And besides,"_he had told Uryu, shelling out a truth that Uryu would've given anything to not be reminded of, _**"You need Kurosaki to do it. Do it and live, anyway."**_

Of course they needed Ichigo. Because Ichigo was the wunderkind, the special case, Soul Society's virtual messiah. Ishida had his powers back, he was a full-fledged Quincy again. He even had a new weapon, the Seele Schneider! But no, they needed Kurosaki. He just wasn't enough. And that envy for Kurosaki had grown into something else much heavier, darker. It grew into a mixture of disappointment, anger, and flat-out blame for all that was happening. And Ishida, with nothing more to keep him within Karakura, left for medical school. He couldn't sit there and wait, couldn't put his life on hold to sit around and blame Kurosaki and Arisawa for not saving her when they had the chance. He had too many obligations, too many things he couldn't ignore or shove away.

So Uryu Ishida left, with a heavy heart and blame steadily growing into hate burning with a chemical flavor on his tongue. As if he'd gotten a mouthful of bleach. He threw himself into his studies, gave no other woman any chance in the wait for Orihime's rescue. He knew it would happen eventually, he just didn't know quite when. He knew it would be when Kurosaki showed his face again, and Ishida would just have to put up with his disdain for the shinigami for the time being, until he could save Orihime and tell her exactly how he felt. What he had been too proud to tell her beforehand. What he'd been too _stupid_ to reveal to her, before she was snatched away from him.

Ichigo had called them all back, and he had waited in a hotel for around a day or so in waiting for the others to show before him. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that he was eager to save her. And when they'd gathered, Urahara had explained the Gargantua and sent them all through. Himself, Ichigo Kurosaki, Tatsuki Arisawa, Renji Abarai, Rukia Kuchiki, and Keigo Asano. Ichigo...he had been different. Something was wrong with him, Uryu could tell. Sure, he acted the same, but it was something that only Ishida seemed able to see. A certain glint in his eyes, a tremor in his voice that proved him lying through his teeth. Whether Ichigo was sincere in his wishes to save Orihime or not was none of Uryu's concern, and the Quincy had made himself scarce when it was needed, had kept his distance from Ichigo whenever possible. The dislike seemed mutual, as Ichigo only seemed slightly more willing to fight with Uryu when they had left Urahara's company and arrived in Hueco Mundo. He and Kuchiki were an item, it seemed, and it looked like they were having troubles.

Uryu didn't care. They were them, and they could handle their own problems. He came for a rescue, and it was going to happen.

But he never expected it to happen like this, as Szayel took his time in crushing some bones with those annoying little voodoo dolls, rending himself and Abarai severely weakened. It was never supposed to happen like this.

"I was given an order not to execute any intruders, though I must admit, that will prove to be a powerful temptation." Szayel murmured to himself in an odd sort of croon, watching Abarai stand and prepare to attack. Grantz cocked an apparently well-groomed pink eyebrow in watching him, looking more than a bit amused.

"Really, you have absolutely _no_ chance of victory against me. Why don't you just lay down and let me decide what to do with you, hm?"

Renji lunged as Szayel Aporro pulled out a little plastic bone from Renji's voodoo doll that Uryu recognized as the tibia, snapping it between his freakish fingers. Renji shouted before collapsing, as Szayel quickly snapped both of his Achilles tendons to keep him down, looking quite distastefully at Renji as he swore loudly at the Espada.

"Down, boy. You lay quiet and hope I'm in a good mood, which I'm not." He glanced between the two, before Pesche and Dondochakka attempted their personal cero after Pesche pulled out his Zanpakuto in a rather...unorthodox manner. It happened to wound Grantz though, which proved both fortunate and humiliating to Uryu. Pulling out a Zanpakuto in a suggestive way would land hits on the Octava? Idiotic. But the cero itself, while impressive, proved futile. And soon afterwards, the two...ran off. They went to find Nel, leaving Ishida and Abarai to die at Szayel's hands.

_'Lawless...untrustworthy...hollows!' _Ishida growled mentally at their retreating figures, as Szayel gave them no more than a single, disinterested glance.

"They are quite worthless, and annoying as well. Absolutely not worth my time." Szayel mused, before looking back as Ishida moved to his feet in one smooth motion and used Ransotengai, the same technique he had used when fighting Kurotsuchi, animating his useless, crushed limbs to working. It was a last-ditch effort, he knew, but if nothing else, he would die fighting and he would die on his feet. So ordained the Quincy pride that had lost him his Orihime.

"Well, you're quite persistent, aren't you? Even when you can't move at all on your own and have to resort to parlor tricks to continue fighting, you won't give in. I find it quite amusing, actually." Szayel murmured, as Ishida fired upon his dramatic, hideous form. His sonido was very quick, speedy enough to avoid the shots and fast enough to outmanoeuvre the Quincy's own Hirenkyaku. A soft snapping got his attention and Ishida realized that his foot had been broken, a distraction lasting long enough for Szayel to get around behind him and wrap his wing appendages in a cage around the two of them, trapping Ishida in with him. Uryu's broken limbs proved painful and offered no resistance to Grantz as he held the Quincy still, laying his chin on Uryu's shoulder.

"You still fight me, even though you have nary a single chance. You remind me of Yylforte, actually. My dear elder brother, the useless one that your shinigami friend killed." Szayel murmured, squeezing tighter on Uryu's broken arms as Renji continued shouting to him from outside. Szayel tsked, scowling a bit at the noise before continuing to hold Uryu still as he shouted, cried out at the bone shards digging further into his flesh.

"You know, poor Quincy boy, I've gained an interest in you. I think it's that desperate look in your eyes that I adore the most, actually. You have something important you want, I can see it quite plainly. No, don't flinch like that, it's no secret to me, dear. But I can still see it, that you want something so badly that you can just taste it. And you already know that it's something you just can't have." Szayel crooned in his ear, having no inhibitions about flicking his tongue along Uryu's neck to see him chill, attempt to throw the Octava off. It was instantly that the wing cage opened and Grantz threw Uryu out into the sand, quickly retrieving a voodoo doll and picking a piece out of Renji's. With a quick crushing motion, Renji's voice became hoarse and he choked.

"Recurrent laryngeal nerve." Uryu murmured, moving around to see as Szayel produced an identical piece and held it up a bit. Uryu shot forward, only to find that his body simply wouldn't react with the high amount of pain he was in.

"Don't!!" He shouted, as Szayel ignored him and snapped the piece. Renji's voice, now hoarsely shouting out one last swear against Szayel, instantly went out. He looked like he was shocked at the complete loss of his voice, and Uryu knew that right now he was having difficulty breathing. Szayel looked more than content with the silence, smiling.

"Ah, sweet serenity. I would rather hear screams of pain than shouts of blasphemy, really. Now, I wouldn't want you running off, shinigami." He produced another piece and snapped it quickly, and instantly did Renji drop from all fours to his stomach, staring blankly and most terrifiedly at the sand. Uryu knew that he had snapped a vertebrae and most likely caused it to splinter into the spinal column, leaving Renji paralyzed from what seemed to be the neck down. Staring upwards at the Octava as he turned to face the Quincy now, Uryu realized in dull horror that Szayel was smiling cruelly down upon him, an absolutely sadistic smile on his lips as he moved forward and kneeled down, tipping Uryu's chin up with his forefinger.

"Don't worry, Uryu, I assume. I won't do that to you, because you're...well, I think you're my _favorite_."

The way he said it, an almost lustful look in his eyes as he spoke the words, chilled Uryu to the bone. Being the favorite was bad, so horribly bad, it would seem. He didn't get to think on it much, as a thin hand came down with pinpoint precision to slam right into the back of his head, launching Uryu into terrifying, smothering blackness.

* * *

_Wasn't supposed to happen this way..._

The thought echoed through Uryu's mind as he opened his eyes, finding himself laying on a stainless steel table.

"You're awake. That's very good, I was getting rather bored." Szayel's voice came from somewhere dangerously close, and Uryu attempted to shoot upwards. As he sat up, Szayel's hand curved around his neck and locked on his jaw, holding him in place as a strange thin pain shot through the young man's back. In an instant, Uryu found himself completely unable to move below the neck. He tried to shout, but his vocal cords were locked as well by what he slowly realized was a very well-place needle slid right into his spinal column. Szayel was leaning over him now, laying his cheek on Uryu's almost lovingly.

"My dear Quincy toy, I was waiting for you. Just counting the seconds until you came back alive for me." The Espada crooned, laying Uryu back down gently on a table with a hole cut in it precisely along his spine. This table was made exactly for this sort of torture, he realized. Szayel walked around the table slowly, smiling down on Uryu as he traced his fingers gently along his arms, his legs.

And Uryu realized, in total and complete horror, that _he could feel everything_.

"You look like you've noticed? Yes, I'm very good at acupuncture. Well...not in the sense that most think of, but yes. I've found that inserting needles into certain places along the spine allow me to shut down certain areas temporarily, or permanently, if I choose to do so." Szayel commented airily, smiling still. Though now, it was taking on a decidedly more sinister turn as he moved himself on the table, straddling Uryu's hips. He leaned forward, nose-to-nose with Ishida and his hands traveling under the shirt and along the Quincy's stomach and chest in phantom touches.

"Yes, you know what this means. I've had so much amusement with this table, in particular. Your shinigami friend is alive, if you're even concerned about him at all through your current predicament. He won't be moving around anytime soon, though. Pity." Szayel murmured it against Uryu's throat, smiling at the feeling of a warm body. Arrancar, hollows in general were cold and had no pulse. He would enjoy his time with this living one. Uryu, at that time, was having a full-out panic attack. He was unable to move, unable to make a sound and was completely at Szayel's mercy. Out of nowhere, Grantz dug his nails into Uryu's flesh and dragged them down as hard as he could, leaving long gashes down the young man's chest that began bleeding quickly. Uryu's mind was filled with pain, a loud and horrid scream echoing in his mind as his vocal cords refused to make noise.

"Humans and shinigami were always so warm." Szayel murmured, pulling off Uryu's shirt and running his tongue along the gashes as his fingers dipped in the wounds and twisted, pulled, tore, only to cause more agony to his victim. He looked up to see Uryu's eyes wide open, tears of pain collecting at their corners.

"Yes, we're going to have so much fun, my dear Uryu. I've been alone since Yylforte died, and it's just a shame. But now I get to spend all of my affections with you. I'm going to have my way with you, Quincy boy, and then I'm going to _**eat you allllll up**_."

He leaned foward, pulling his fingers free of Ishida's wounds and laying them on his cheeks, smearing the blood along Uryu's face and painting it to his pleasure.

"I know you want to scream, but not right now." Szayel spoke in a near-whisper, leaning to lay his forehead against Uryu's. Gently, he began to trace the Quincy's lips and paint them red with lovely, lovely red blood. Softly, he ran his tongue across Uryu's cheek and then pressed his own cheek to the victim's, smiling happily and almost lovingly, as Uryu screamed out in his mind.

_'I have to save her!! I can't be...this isn't possible...this isn't possible!! **Someone help** **me!!'**_

Szayel continued to lay with Uryu, speaking softly as he went on in speaking right into the Quincy's ear.

_"Let's just enjoy the silence, Uryu."_


	10. Remember, Reprise, Regret

He was left awake. He was left totally conscious, so that he could think. He could feel terror. And worst of all, he could regret.

Renji Abarai lay in a pitch black room on an unforgivingly cold steel table, most likely of the stainless and surgical type. He couldn't move a finger, nothing beyond the base actions of his heart pumping and breathing. His eyes had remained open when they were locked in paralysis, and though the cool darkness was much more favorable to the painful fluorescent lights of the rest of Hueco Mundo, specifically what was left of Szayel Aporro Grantz's lab, Renji wished he would've been blinking at that moment in time. The dry air did no good for his open, unblinking eyes.

He was locked in a room of total, terrifying blackness. And he could hear, on occasion, either loud groaning far-off, or even worse; loud _screaming_. The screams would either last for so long that Renji thought he would go mad from the sound of it, this horrible nails-on-a-chalkboard serenade of the damned, or they would last for only an instant and then be choked off suddenly, which was **worse**. And when the screams fled, Renji was left in total silence as well as darkness. He wanted to scream.

But he couldn't. That bastard Grantz had destroyed his vertebrae, which even Renji, with limited medical knowledge, knew to cause paralysis. Sure, Grantz probably had the measures to fix it in some way or another, but he didn't really put faith in the man to do that sort of favor for him. Especially since those screams sounded like somebody very familia-

No. He wouldn't think about that, he wouldn't allow himself to. The last thing he needed to think about was what was happening outside that door and down the hallway. Instead, he would busy his mind with his mission.

And then he thought of how, and who, he had failed. And it was worse than everything else combined.

* * *

At one point in time, Renji Abarai and Ichigo Kurosaki were what you would call friends. Could call, you might say, since it became fuzzy at times exactly whether their relationship was a battle rival or a rival in an entirely different scenario. But they were...comrades. Yes, comrades would describle it perfectly. Kurosaki was an agreeable kid, if not a bit brash at times and other times, just plain moronic. You could say the exact same thing about Renji himself. They were friends, and they were rivals for a woman as well.

Renji tried his damndest. Tried as hard as he could to show Rukia his care, try to make her see him as more than a cherished childhood friend who had happened to help her honored elder brother bring her back for her execution. But he lost in the end, to Ichigo. He lost Rukia to the Soul Society's ace in the hole, the seeming gravity well of power that was Ichigo Kurosaki, substitute shinigami.

But he told himself that he wouldn't be bitter.

Rukia made her choice, and it wasn't him. He wouldn't hold it against her, and he wouldn't hold it against Ichigo for winning her heart, either. And so he watched from afar, congratulating them on it when they decided to announce. Not if it wasn't _obvious_in the first place. Byakuya wasn't terribly pleased with her choice in men, and it was obvious to Renji. He worked with the man, for god's sake. He watched them be happy, hid his guilt and envy pretty damn well and found solace in Rangiku Matsumoto. She was still reeling from Ichimaru's betrayal, and though it was loveless, the two had more than a few trysts. And not all of them were drunken, either.

But after Kurosaki very suddenly left a bit after Inoue disappeared, off to Kyoto or somewhere like that. And he knew that Rukia followed, as best as she could. That one shinigami, Zennosuke Kurumidani or something like that took over Rukia's old patrol on Karakura Town, so Rukia got herself recommissioned in Kyoto, close to Ichigo. Renji didn't see them together often, but when she came back, she looked ruffled and so very_ tired_. And he caught her at one point in time with her shirt halfway down, examining bruises in places that Byakuya would never look, and where Ichigo apparently thought he wouldn't see either.

When he did catch it though, it took a combination of Ikkaku, Hisagi, Kira, and eventually Byakuya himself to keep Renji from heading down to Kyoto and strangling Ichigo himself.

Byakuya probably had an inkling of what was going on (at least after Renji's spectacular meltdown), but not the bluntness to undress Rukia and look himself. And she denied it up and down to Renji when they were in private, until he himself showed the nerve to jerk down Rukia's pants and point at the deep bruises on the inside of her thighs. Too dark to be of passion, he could tell. And as soon as he did this, she fell into him crying 'He's different! He's not the same!' over and over again. He comforted her as best he could, fixing her clothes and letting her cry into his chest for as long as she wanted, whispering comforting things into her hair.

"You can't let him do this shit, Rukia. Don't let him pull this shit." Renji had been trying to keep calm, but his temper was rising. And that damn thing was frayed already. Rukia nodded into his chest, though he could tell that she didn't mean it.

"He wasn't always like this, Renji. He used to be so kind, but when we were apart, something just...snapped. Something's _different_."

That phrase stuck with him. Something was different. And damn it all, he wasn't letting this happen to Rukia. Anybody but Rukia. Not Rukia, not **his**Rukia. He would burn in _Hell_before this shit happened to the woman he still loved. And so Renji told Rukia he would protect her, and she told him no. She told him not to get involved, because he'd lose his head. And then they had gotten into a screaming match over who was right and who was wrong, ending with Renji getting a slap across the face and then getting to watch Rukia run off. Guilt tore at his heart, shredding the anger with chants of 'You fucked up, you fucked up', and he walked out of there feeling just as monstrous as what Kurosaki had turned into.

They had stayed away from one another for a good span of time after that, both still reluctant to admit being wrong, but also ashamed of what had happened.

That was, until Renji had gotten a patrol order for Kyoto when Rukia happened to be visiting Ichigo. He remembered her words, telling him not to get involved because he would lose his head and do something stupid. And he knew she was right, too; he was never one to be controlled in his anger. And that had cinched it, as soon as he realized that Rukia _knew_ he'd see something that would make him angry. Something that would piss him off so much that he just might **attack **Kurosaki for it.

And so Renji went, to see what was happening. And he didn't tell Rukia or Ichigo, just so they wouldn't pretend to satiate his need to know.

He found them easily, since Kurosaki was a fucking faucet when it came to reiatsu. And he happened to walk up to the window right about the time that Rukia caught a backhand across the face.

And the next thing that both Rukia and Ichigo heard was a cry of 'Zabimaru!!', followed by the shikai blade whizzing through the window and Ichigo turning at the exact moment for it to barely miss his head and instead gore his shoulder. An instant later he was in his own shinigami form, Zangetsu at the ready and Ichigo already beginning to swing.

Renji saw something at that moment that he instantly affirmed for Rukia's statement to be true; Ichigo was grinning, and Ichigo Kurosaki never smiled unless it was an odd half-smile, and even that was rare. This Ichigo was drastically different. He had _changed_.

The fight continued on for only a few minutes, namely when Renji had Zabimaru at Ichigo's throat and knew Zangetsu to be poised at the back of his neck if he decided to make any moves.

"You sick fuck." Renji growled lowly, rage flashing in his eyes as Ichigo's expression had returned to a normal version, namely a pissed scowl. "Tell me why I shouldn't slit your fucking throat right now." Zabimaru's blade digging further into Kurosaki's neck and a drop of blood rolling down the blade because of it. Ichigo began smirking, knowingly.

"Because, Renji, you know that I'm much stronger than you. Really, could you fight Byakuya down to defeat? Oh, wait..." He trailed off with a sly smirk, completely unlike Ichigo. The blade tightened and it disappeared, Ichigo gritting his teeth noticeably and staring down at Renji.

"And also, because I could kill her and then you wouldn't get her either."

Renji saw Ichigo's eyes flash something else entirely; for a second he saw black and he saw yellow, before watching Ichigo offhandedly throw Zangetsu to slam into the wall right next to where Rukia was leaning. He had wrapped Zangetsu's bandage around his wrist at some point in time, to allow him to throw it quickly and then jerk it back for a possible kill on Renji, if he hadn't ruined the surprise. He could've killed them both, and the look on his face told Renji that this new Ichigo would've done with with less than a thought.

That was fucking it. Renji was about to twist the blade and kill Kurosaki, when Rukia sounded out.

"Stop it!" She shouted, marching up to Renji and gripping Zabimaru tightly, shoving it away while cutting her own palm to ribbons. She was pissed at...at him?? At Renji?? For _helping her_??

"I told you not to come, Renji!! I knew this was going to happen if you did!" Rukia spat at him, before turning around and marching out of the house. Ichigo didn't move, only watched as Renji pulled away Zabimaru with a harshly whispered 'Touch her again and I'll castrate you', before returning Zabimaru to its katana form and sheathing it and hurrying after Rukia. They had argued again, leaving Ichigo there with his screwed up apartment and that sickening grin that Renji had seen. The two of them had headed back to Seireitei and Rukia had dragged him off to the Thirteenth's courtyards, where nobody was or would hear them.

"Why the hell do you put up with that shit?!" Was the first thing Renji said, before Rukia put a finger to his lips to shut him up while glaring all the while. "I'm not, not anymore. You didn't even hear what I told him, did you? Before you rushed in like a goddamn bull seeing red?"

"I shouldn't have to have fucking ESP to decide whether to kick a guy's ass or not for hitting you, Rukia." He spat, sitting down as she dragged him to the ground with her. She glared, her violet eyes holding annoyance in them as she spoke tersely.

"You...ugh. I was telling him that I'm not his damn babysitter. And I'm not his punching bag either; he keeps it up and I'm leaving, and he knows I'll tell Byakuya about it. And when I say Byakuya's name, he looks afraid. I think he's scared of fighting Byakuya's Senbonzakura again, and he knows that fighting brother again is a deathwish if Byakuya knows about what he's been doing."

Renji blinked, before shaking off the surprise and reattaching his scowl.

"But he fucking hit you."

"And that means he's really afraid. He gets violent when he's scared; I've seen it, I can tell. I'm giving him one more cha...no, don't argue with me, shut up and listen. One more chance, and if he so much as looks at me wrong, I'm leaving and going straight to Byakuya." Rukia told Renji, seeing him fall into a sulking silence. She moved forward, tightening her fingers in Renji's shihakusho front and pulling him down for a kiss.

"Renji, are you there for me if it goes wrong?" She asked him quietly when they broke their kiss, their foreheads still together.

"Until the end, Rukia." Renji told her equally quietly, before seeing tears in her eyes a split second before she threw her weight against him and sent him sprawling across the courtyard ground, her head buried in his chest again.

"Thank you Renji." She whispered, and he just laid a hand on her back and rubbed in small, soothing circles.

"Every time, Rukia."

* * *

And then Ichigo had dragged them all together for a crack rescue mission when Urahara got the solace to set it up, and Renji had made up his mind from the moment Ichigo went sour with Rukia.

He was going to kill Ichigo right here, in the Hueco Mundo sands.

Kill him, and be rid of the man for good. And he and Rukia could be happy without him, as Kurosaki's corpse rotted in the stale and bleached desert. They were on a rescue mission deep in enemy territory after all; nobody would suspect a thing if a comrade died on such a suicidal mission. By a sword wound, no less. Their group had split up and gone on their way, though it was near hesitantly that Renji left Rukia. She gave him a reassuring smile before they split up though, and he took comfort in it. He trusted them all to survive, like they said they would.

And then, Renji got himself royally fucked over.

They never stood a chance against Szayel Aporro, they should've...no, they_ did _see it. They knew that it was an impossible fight, but they fought like hell anyway. He and Uryu, that is. And now, those hauntingly familiar screams drifted down the hallway to Renji's ears once again, and he cursed it all in a terrible trap of his own paralyzed body.

And he thought of Rukia, and how he would never be able to protect her like he said he would. Even if he escaped this, Renji had little hope that they could fix an injury this serious. A quadriplegic, forever. And he couldn't protect Rukia like he promised her he would. He wouldn't be there if it went wrong. And it did go wrong. It went so, so wrong. His eyes burned at the thought and Renji vaguely noted that tears were coming, hot and blurring the vision he didn't have.

_'Damn it, damn it, damn it!!'_ The thought echoed like a mantra as he shut his eyes, before realizing he did so. So he could blink. Great.

The door opened again and bright light flooded the room near painfully, as Renji opened his eyes to look upon the entering party. None other than Szayel Aporro Grantz, his hair a bit ruffled and his clothes only slightly askew.

Only slightly, if you disregarded the gigantic splatter of blood all across the front, that is.

"Well, shinigami. Good to see you still conscious." Grantz mused, walking up with a satisfied smile on his lips and examining Renji closely. He was examining a specimen was what he was doing, and Renji's stomach instinctually did a somersault at the glint in Grantz's eyes that looked so very familiar to Kurotsuchi's. Renji wanted to swear at him, so badly. To shout out her name, to tell her he was so sorry and that he didn't mean for it to turn out this way. To scream. He wanted to scream more than anything else.

"You'll be a wonderful live specimen. I've got a rather short supply of shinigami to use, and an order came in a little bit ago. Aizen doesn't care if you live or die after all, actually. How wonderful."

Renji watched in slowly growing, twisting, sickening horror as a host of terrifying Fraccion rolled in with various terrifying surgical tools, moving the trays next to Renji's current table.

His operating table.

He tried to scream now, he physically tried to scream. And he got out a strangled cry, only one, and nothing more.

**"RUKIA!!"**

The cry was singular and agonized, but ignored, as Szayel Aporro put on a mask and picked up an unnaturally clean scalpel, laid it on Renji's bare stomach, and began to cut.

* * *

**((There's the second third of the Renji/Rukia/Ichigo triangle. And anything that doesn't make sense right now, like why Rukia would put up with H/Ichigo's abusive shit anyway, is in the next chapter. Which is Rukia's. See you next time, guys.))**


	11. I Want to Forget You

Sode no Shirayuki was limp in her palm, very loosely held as she watched his Zanpakuto spin in a pinwheel motion before her. Her heart ached, as the blood ran down her cheek and dripped onto her shihakusho. And the water spun around his blade, transforming the sealed Zanpakuto into a grand trident. From normal and bland into Nejibana, with only five words.

"Churn the waters of heaven."

The transformation was done and he repeated the Zanpakuto's name, only solidifying in Rukia Kuchiki's heart that this...this could be her Shiba Kaien. No, not hers. She did nothing more to have him than take his life in the cold rain, so he was never hers. But this Kaien was cruel, and toyed with her viciously while wearing his carefree smile. This was not her Kaien. This was not Kaien at all. She hoped it wasn't.

"Prepare yourself, Kuchiki."

And with that, the battle began. She wanted to believe it wasn't Kaien, but everything said that this was him. The characteristic stance, the moves focusing on the rotation of his wrist, the trademark waves crashing down all around her that would either crush her or cut her in two, this was all his work. There was doubt that she was trying to hold onto, but that doubt was slipping out of her fingers like silk, doubt as thin as spider's webs. And as she danced away from his attacks, as she blew open the roof and revealed him for what he was, Rukia Kuchiki could only think of why she was here, could only remember how it had all turned out like this.

Rukia Kuchiki could slip back into the time that she could forget.

* * *

She really did love him. In a way.

When Rukia had actually gotten with Ichigo, after Inoue had been kidnapped, it started out so well. Ichigo was kind, sweet, and though he didn't smile too often, she was the one that recieved most of his smiles. Byakuya wasn't too happy about her choice in men, but said nothing about it and in fact pretended that it didn't exist at all. Ignored it completely. That was great, actually. She would see him when she could, and they were happy.

It didn't last. Not nearly long enough.

He left in a hurry after graduation, moved to Kyoto without so much as a word to anybody, didn't tell her where he had gone for the longest time. He isolated himself. Ichigo Kurosaki vanished.

It didn't last. Not nearly long enough.

Rukia spent her time without Ichigo pining away, wondering where he went. She wanted to see him. She really did. Because when she was with Ichigo, in his arms, even in his bed, she didn't have to think about things. Rukia didn't have to think about why she was fighting, she didn't have to remember Renji drinking himself to death every night, she didn't have to remember that she was the one that made him that way. She didn't have to remember a princess locked away in Hueco Mundo completely alone, probably being tortured by Ichimaru and ravished by hollows or something just as nightmarish. She didn't have to remember kneeling in the dark red mud on a rainy night, a warm but cooling body laying against her and a corpse thanking her for his death.

She didn't have to remember.

She needed him so that she didn't have to remember.

And all of a sudden, he contacted her again through a patrolling shinigami near wherever he was. He wanted her to come to see him again. And Rukia jumped at the chance to come and see her Ichigo, so that she could start forgetting again. But when she showed up at the small apartment, she knew something was different, something was wrong. His mannerisms were identical to how they had been, but there was...something different. His eyes were exactly the same, but at the same time, they weren't. His smile was just as warm, but it was so much crueler. He was Ichigo, but he was...he was something else.

Rukia found out (very quickly) that she was right.

She found out relatively slowly as he revealed more and more to her. He had a hairtrigger temper at times, and at other times, he had the paitence of a saint. He could be kind, and at other times, he could be downright cruel. He could be charming, and he could be downright vulgar. He could whisper sweet nothings into her ear and he could also hiss venomous words into her face. He could tell her that he loved her, and he could tell her that he was the only one that did.

He could be Ichigo, and he could be a monster. And Rukia found out that he could switch on a dime.

This wasn't Ichigo. She told herself that it wasn't, but her doubt was merely a sliver. A sliver that she held on to so tightly. He was violent, he was crude, he was evil. And she was still with him, for one reason.

Because she still didn't have to remember when she was with him. That was it. She was using him, a parasite sapping comfort and the thick white veil that blanketed her and hid her from her crimes and her guilt. It was pathetic. It was horribly pathetic. But it was the truth. And this not-Ichigo was happy to let her forget if she would pick him back up after a party, if she let him use her. So she did. And anybody believe it or not, she was happy with that situation, even if there was no real kindness in his eyes, even if his voice was slicker, crueler. Even if Ichigo Kurosaki was now a monster, she could live with that and she could be happy with it. Just as long as he'd let her get another hit of forgetting, as if she were some junkie hooked on not remembering what she'd done and who she'd hurt in her life.

Then Renji snapped her out of it, even though she told him not to show. She told him not to come to save her, because she didn't need saving. Rukia didn't think she needed a savior, and the faux Ichigo told her she didn't. But Renji showed her the bruises, and told her that she didn't deserve that. And she opened her eyes again. Renji let her cry on him, was so kind to her. But he couldn't help her forget, not when he smelled of alcohol and cheap perfume and sex. He only reminded her. And even when she was against him, crying her eyes out, and he was thinking that she was crying because of Ichigo, she was really crying because of him.

She realized then that she wasn't happy with remembering, but she didn't want to quit forgetting either. She was in a state of total hopelessness. And so Rukia Kuchiki acted on pure impulse. She told Ichigo that Renji was getting wise to his antics, and that he was going to need to tone it down or he might tell Byakuya. He flew off the handle, called her a bitch, told her she was worthless, and that he was the only one that would ever want her. She didn't even care, didn't even blink. And that was why he hit her in the first place. Renji busted in, and she ran off from them. Renji was hotheaded and only reminded her of her faults. Ichigo was dangerous and was only using her, though she now knew from that look of fear in his eyes at her mention of Byakuya that this was not Ichigo. And she couldn't bear the stress of being between these two men any longer, not when the mantle of nobility was stressful enough and the insignificance she felt as Byakuya's adoptive sister was just too much to bear. Not now, when she was enduring the stress of a war, watching her friends fall on the battlefield.

She wanted to forget.

This was not Ichigo. This was his hollow. She knew it. Ichigo wasn't afraid of Byakuya. But he had once jokingly told her that his hollow sure as hell didn't like her brother. Now she knew. His hollow had won, and Ichigo was gone. Her world broke. So she told Renji that she was going to leave Ichigo, which, technically, she was. And she sealed her promise with a kiss. But Rukia had another idea in mind, one that would most definitely be carried out.

She was going to Hueco Mundo, and she wasn't coming back.

* * *

Nejibana was in her stomach, as she hovered over Aaroniero wearing Kaien's face. The mass of tentacles writhed beneath them both, horrifying, disgusting. Rukia remembered Kaien's words, about leaving your heart with friends, about not dying alone. A tear dripped onto Aaroniero's face and rolled down his cheek, and he stared up in surprise at her while it ran down his face. It almost looked as if Aaroniero himself were crying.

"I'm sorry, Kaien. Forgive me." Rukia said quietly, closing her eyes. Sode no Shirayuki dropped from her hand, landing on the white immaculate floor and sticking in it upright. A moment later, she felt herself lowering to the floor and a comforting hand on her shoulder, Nejibana pulling out of her body and leaving her to hang in his hand limply.

"You're not injured to a point where you can't move. Stand up." Aaroniero spoke to her, and she opened her eyes. The blade hadn't pierced any organs, which was a miracle; it meant he wasn't aiming for her body directly, at least not in a killing blow. She moved to her feet, swaying slightly and stood before him as he had returned to the form of Kaien Shiba, her idol, the man she might have loved. He sighed, a bit, once again acting like Kaien Shiba. He was exasperated. Glancing back down to her, Aaroniero tabbed the bloody Nejibana against the side of his head.

"Well, I've got an idea. The little bit of me that's still Kaien Shiba thinks we should at least give you a last request. Oh, and don't say for me to let you go, because you're hemorrhaging from that Nejibana wound in your gut. You're going to die here, I'm just letting you pick how. Nice of me, eh?" He grinned at that last word, just like Kaien. Rukia felt tears coming on, but pushed them back so she could speak again.

"I..."

Aaroniero became serious again, watching her walk towards him and lean against him, her left cheek pressed against his chest while she looked off into the distance. At the fake sun.

"I want to forget."

She spoke it quietly, keeping her stare blank. Blood from her wound was now soaking into Aaroniero's, and his eyes became nearly sad, regretful at it all ending like this. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him with no expression, showing that she was serious. He nodded, moving his horrific left hand into view again. The tentacles writhed, and Rukia instinctually stepped back from them before Aaroniero pushed her forward and into it. The tentacles quickly got to work, exploring her face for a moment before heading for her eyes and down her throat.

There was no screaming. Just choked gags, gurgles, and then nothing at all. The only way to know that she was ever there was to look at the blood sprayed across the floor.

* * *

Gin Ichimaru was walking off to where Rukia had last been. The intruders were falling like flies. Was that how the saying went? Ah, who cares. He waltzed into the tower and saw where Aaroniero had battled with Kuchiki, and only saw one there. Aaroniero, toying with a snow white sword.

"Hay Aaroniero, how'd it go then?" Ichimaru called, seeing Aaroniero look up. He was in Kaien Shiba form, sitting in the shadows. With a bit of a smirk, he began to speak as his body began to shift.

"**Well, it depends on how you discern** _victory and defeat, Ichimaru-san."_

As he had spoken and reached the word 'victory', Kaien Shiba had turned into a smirking Rukia Kuchiki, now sheathing Sode no Shirayuki. Gin's smile grew, and he waited for Aaroniero to pick up his mask and walk out into the sunlight to put it on before following with a bounce in his step.


	12. Coward and the King

**((Warning for language, since it's Hichigo and all.))**

* * *

Well, Hichigo was getting pretty damn tired of blowing apart small fry, but at least he got to blow _something_ apart. Nel was still under his arm, mainly because protecting the kid kept Ichigo quiet (and Hichigo did **not** need a migraine from that little horsie bitch screaming in his head again), but he was starting to think she was getting afraid of how easily he blew the enemies apart. Tch, another...hey, what was that?

Well hot damn, his problems were solved!

Hichigo grinned as he felt their reiatsu lessen more and more. That fuckhead Ishida, that bitch Kuchiki, that bastard Abarai, that little dyke Arisawa, all of their reiatsus either disappeared or became so low he didn't care to actually check if they were even still there or not. Hichigo couldn't help but feel like he was missing somebody, but what the hell, screw it. He was feeling pretty damn good now; probably could've whistled, if he wouldn't have broken his image and if he wouldn't have looked absolutely retarded. And now, all that was left was finding Inoue so that he could start educating her on doing what he wanted and shutting the hell up when he asked for it.

_Don't you do a thing, you bastard!!_

Oh great. Hichigo rolled his eyes at the exclamation from Ichigo, before thinking that having a chat with ponyboy down there wouldn't hurt, since Arrancar were now fleeing at the sight of him.

**Shaddap, I'll do what I want, because I'm not the one chained down in my own consciousness. Well, I kind of am, but that's a whole new can of worms right there-**

_You're a sick freak! You use people until you're done with them, and then you get rid of them; I had friends and family, what do you have? You don't have anything, because you're a monster!_

Hichigo's eye twitched, and he gritted his teeth slightly as he fought back. Ichigo was kind of pissing him off now.

**Don't go all holy on ME, Ichigo! You like to say that I'm the cause of all your problems, that you're some big damn hero, but you know that that's a fucking lie. You heard Inoue was kidnapped. You tried to save her. When you couldn't, you saw an opportunity to get away from the fighting and the blood and the war, because you're a pacifistic pussy.**

_That's...that's not true...!!_ His tone was deflating, and Hichigo knew that he was winning now.

**What, you don't like admitting it? That you abandoned all the shinigami, Orihime, and all your friends so that you could start a new life? You're pathetic.**

_What would you have done then?? I was sick of seeing people I know and care about dying like animals; you would've stayed to watch that?? _Ichigo's tone was hurt, though he was attempting to hide that fact from his other. Hichigo grinned, and it was a sick, all-too-amused grin.

**Yeah! Because even though you think I'm a heartless monster, I do care about them too. Just, in a...different sort of way. You think I'm not at least a little sad when they die? Sure, I don't mourn; I shrug my shoulders and say, 'Oh well, nothing I could do about that'. But I do feel a little bit bad, because you feel very bad when it happens and that transfers. Just like right now. You know they're all dead, that's why you're snapping at me so much. You want to cry. You want to run away. You want to kill yourself. Because you're just a kid, after all.**

Ichigo had fallen silent, but from how his heart twisted in agony at every word, Hichigo knew that he was having a huge effect.

**But me...I don't run. I'm better than you. Stronger. Smarter. Faster. And I don't feel fear. I don't run from things just because I'm afraid I'll see somebody die. You, you're a selfish kid. You wanted to get away from it all. You wanted your own life and you needed to just abandon everything else so you could have it. And you did. You're just as much a selfish monster as I am. So don't you get all holy on me, saying you're better than I am. 'Cos you're not.**

There was silence between the two now, as Ichigo refused to talk to Hichigo and Hichigo was enjoying the moment of quiet. A few more Arrancar fell to his blade, and Nel remained silent as well, probably in terror. Well, terror was what Hichigo estimated, but meh. After a long while, Hichigo heard Ichigo speak again. It was a quiet question.

_...So what are you doing with Orihime that would be better than leaving her alone?_

Hichigo was absolutely speechless. He hadn't expected Ichigo to string together a coherent argument, and even though the hollow had been winning every one of their arguments lately, he didn't have a snappy comeback for this one. So instead, Hichigo shook his head a bit, focusing on the path ahead of him down a long white hallway.

**Shaddap.**

And Ichigo did, knowing that he'd beaten his hollow on at least one front. And Hichigo was furious. He absolutely detested losing, especially to Ichigo. In a furious silence, Hichigo turned down a hallway and stopped as he recognized the figure leaning against a blank white wall, now glancing over at him and grinning.

"Kurosaki."

"Jeagerjaques."

Hichigo was grinning himself now, hand already moving towards Zangetsu's handle. Grimmjow was one he'd wanted to fight for a long, long time; prove himself better than Ichigo, prove to himself that he could beat who Ichigo couldn't. And now, the Sexta was moving from the wall to a standing position, smirking.

"Been waiting for you. Your bitch ass decide to run away for a couple years?"

Hichigo's grin didn't falter, not in the slightest. "Yeah, but I got better." He answered with a cocky smirk, as Grimmjow prepared to lunge.

"Let's take this outside." Hichigo walked right past him, heading for a nice, blank area of wall. With a slash from Zangetsu, there was a new hole that Hichigo was leaning out of, looking down at the plain white sand.

"Wouldn't want to ruin this great decoration you've all got here." He chimed, before dropping to the sand below and tossing Nel aside. Grimmjow was quick to head out as well, and the two stared one another down for a moment. Grimmjow could tell that this wasn't Kurosaki, at least, not the one he remembered. But what the hell; this one seemed more fun anyways, and he could be more interesting to fight.

"You ready?" Grimmjow cracked his knuckles, wanting to enjoy this fight as much as possible. Hichigo half-grinned, Zangetsu drawn and ready. This was his chance. And he was going to rub Ichigo's nose in his superiority once and for all.

"Anytime."

And after that word, both of them lunged.


	13. Stockholm Heroes

**((This chapter may ramble a bit, but it was meant to be that way since it's very introspective.))**

**

* * *

**

He wasn't very interested in it, of course.

Ulquiorra could feel the explosions of their reiatsu clashing, Jeagerjaques and Kurosaki clashing over and over again in a mad beat. There were now two options, two courses of action he could take at that moment in time.

One: Head over to the battlefield, kill Kurosaki right then and there.

Two: Wait for orders from Aizen before acting.

...There were three courses of action he could take at that moment in time.

Three: Do what Orihime had been requesting of him.

He was conflicted on which idea would be the most prudent course of action. Aizen had ordered them to wait for Kurosaki and the intruders to come to them, and not to seek them out. But, they weren't that far off either, and Aizen would most likely not want to lose his Sexta Espada. If Grimmjow were even going to lose at all. Aizen was probably not going to bother with orders, actually, since he was...occupied at the moment. He may be anticipating Ulquiorra to go ahead and take things into his own hands, of his own free will.

That begs the question of if Aizen even thought that Ulquiorra Cifer has any free will at all. He did. He just didn't think it was useful or needed, not before. Now, as he lay back on the large couch with Orihime laying on his side (they were both clothed, of course; Ulquiorra was not willing to try something so wild and unpredictable as sex, not when he didn't know more about how to at least _perform _such an act), both staring blankly off into the distance and lost in their own thoughts, he began to wonder if Aizen had planned this relationship, too. Ulquiorra certainly hadn't. And Ulquiorra, meanwhile, was still attempting to figure out what this relationship is.

He did not know what love is. He did not know what that felt like, and so he did not know if it was 'love' or not that he felt for her. He didn't really think that it was, because if he were ordered to, Ulquiorra could and would kill Orihime. Love was supposed to be when you would be willing to lay down your life for another living being. That notion is insane. His life was more valuable than hers, to him at least. If she died then he could strip that sensitive section of his soul away and go about his life. Even if he did give his life to save her, whomever took his life would probably take hers next. That sacrifice would be in vain.

He did not feel lust for her body. Though he did have sexual urges, he didn't need to satisfy them and barely even felt them anymore. Neither of them possessed the maturity in that area to take their relationship, whatever it is, in any physical manner beyond stiff, near robotic kisses and lying relatively close together. It would have taken a very long time for Orihime to even trust him enough not to leave her, abandon her like all her friends did, and it would have taken an even longer time for Ulquiorra to reconcile whatever he was experiencing for her.

This relationship they shared was not romantic, not in the least. It was sterile. Stiff. Inhumane. They weren't whole people anymore, and they couldn't pretend to be; there would be no sweet nothings whispered in her hair, or any admonitions of love for him. They weren't capable of saying those things. Sure, they could attempt to, just to see if it sounded right on their lips, but it didn't. They had their dramatic moments where it almost looked like they were two young lovers, the dead Romeo and Juliet, but a look in their flat, dull eyes would prove quite the opposite. Her feelings for him were gossamer at best; she didn't adore him as she had Kurosaki years ago, she attached herself to him because, despite herself, she was still Orihime Inoue in some way or another. She needed an anchor in her life. She wouldn't dare allow herself to feel anything other than attachment to Ulquiorra at the moment, because this trembling notion of _love_ was something she wasn't going to grasp right now, in case it withered away, but she was attached to him. He protected her those years, from Nnoitra, from anyone else that would cause her harm. It doesn't matter what he was like; he was _there_.

Ulquiorra's feelings for her were an odd attachment he was trying to sort out. He didn't have any clue exactly what he wanted about her, but there was something that he desired. He needed to find it. It isn't that he wanted to protect her of his own accord, at least, not in the beginning; she was a person he was supposed to protect and feed, and that was it. He didn't care all five of those years; what happened to change that? Nothing, that was just it. Nothing happened. That was what made no sense. She changed her personality, threw away her childish hope, and then?

Something is dawning on him as he lay there, staring at the ceiling with her arms crossed loosely around his neck. Something that may break his world.

He felt like he wasn't alone now. He wasn't alone in cynicism, he wasn't the only one that saw everything in blacks and whites and grays. She could see the word for what it was_._

_She could see it now._

She was a hollow of a human being. And she was devoted to him, in that tentative, almost frightened way that she reached out to him for comfort, for protection, for an anchor to the world.

Ulquiorra theorizes that they have both developed slow, almost unnoticeable syndromes. She may have found him her only tie to the world, her only protector, and slowly developed Stockholm syndrome for him. He may have found her a fragile, delicate and naive little child, but as her worldview developed and turned to his, he found someone who saw the world like he did, and developed Lima syndrome for her.

They are sick people.

"Ulquiorra, did you consider it?" Orihime asked him in dull tones, and he turned his head slightly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. He hesitated a moment, his mouth open slightly, before he feels Grimmjow's reiatsu dim. Nnoitra's clashed with Kurosaki's next, without missing a single beat, and though Grimmjow was apparently still alive, he was defeated.

"...Yes. I will take you."

They may love in some sort of hideous, grossly malformed way, but it is just that: an abortion of emotions that neither of them have.


	14. Hate, Love, Hate

**((This story isn't dead, so don't worry; just a bit of being burnt out on Bleach, but I'm back. I hope this 'I am back yay' chapter is good enough.))**

* * *

Neliel staggers away from the devil in the bone white sands, eyes wide and terrified, tasting blood on the back of her tongue. She just wanted to save him. She just wanted to help him.

As soon as Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez falls, Nnoitra attacks Ichigo hot and heavy and without relent, like a high-quality whore. Nel, innocent, childish Nel stares up as her hero and her protector shinigami staggers, eyes wide as the crescent blade digs into his flesh and twists at just the right angle for the hollow girl to see blues and pinks beyond the ruby blood, and she doesn't recognize them as intestines at that moment in time for the daze that someone had finally injured Ichigo Kurosaki.

The blow shouldn't have thrown Ichigo off as much as they did, and Nnoitra doesn't let up with his relentless flurry of vicious blows, laughing and tormenting the shinigami as much as he can. He calls Orihime, whoever that is, a whore; he says disgusting, slanderous things about her that should ostensibly enrage Kurosaki.

They didn't.

"Oh, really?" Ichigo laughs, though the warm voice Nel has heard up until now is gone and replaced with a coarser tone, as he bares his teeth in a twisted grin to match Nnoitra's and swings back with his zanpakutou. It's forceful enough a blow to draw blood from the shocked Quinta Espada, who watches Ichigo closely as the shinigami puts distance between them, now laying a palm over the gash on his arm and drawing back to see the blood. He hadn't seen his own blood in ages. He narrows his eyes as Kurosaki spits on the sand, acting like a completely different person.

"The fuck are you?" Nnoitra demands, and 'Ichigo' looks back to him and lets out a sharp laugh, derisive in tone.

"What, you didn't expect it? I only play-act like that little bitch Ichigo when I'm not fighting, y'know. Grimmjow wasn't expecting me either, and just look at _him_." Ichigo gestures to what's left of Jeagerjaquez in the sand at Nnoitra's feet, and Jiruga snarls at it and presses his boot on the Sexta's head.

"Fucking pussy." He growls, and he leans his weight onto the Espada's skull until he hears it crack. If he wasn't dead before, he is now, and that serves as a sort of therapeutic release for Nnoitra's temper. Sure, he's just gotten slashed by some brat, but now Grimmjow is dead, and he got to kill him.

"Yeah? Grimmjow was a stupid fuck anyway." Nnoitra spits, before looking up at Ichigo again. "You're not Kurosaki, are you?"

"Bin-go!" Hichigo laughs, clapping his hands and speaking in a very patronizing manner that only serves to piss Nnoitra off. "Good job there, bet it was hard to figure out that toughie, huh?" He provokes Nnoitra, and it works, as the Quinta lunges.

Nel watches the two towering men fight. She's starting to fear them both. Nnoitra is a relentless maelstrom of power and bloodlust, and Kurosaki is a wild animal. She watches them tear one another to pieces, until Nnoitra gains the upper hand through sheer willpower, getting Kurosaki to the sand and preparing to swing a blow towards his neck that's sure to behead him.

Neliel strikes.

She, through pure emotion, returns to her adult form again and is able to strike at Nnoitra while he's occupied, and gives Ichigo enough of a chance to slip out of his grip and strike back. Neliel watches them battle to the terrifying finish, where Ichigo ends up lapsing into a monstrous hollow form, horned mask and terrible claws, laughing like a madman as he tears Nnoitra apart. Jiruga dies, however, with his own small victory as he swings one last time and manages to slice down Ichigo's face, cutting off his mask and leaving a deep gash from slightly below his hairline, down along and over his eye to his chin.

Neliel watches the wounded shinigami swear and spit and roar insults, slicing what's left of Nnoitra to unrecognizable bits. He's not her Ichigo anymore, he never was; he's something else entirely. When he turns to her, his eyes are black-gold and wild, and he's soaked in Nnoitra's blood.

"Well, I didn't expect that, Nel." He croons, with a suave smile, and she instantly falls into a defensive position. Something is wrong here, something is so very wrong. "Oh, don't be afraid, little…I can't really say brat anymore, can I?" His eyes roam up her figure, and she knows that whoever this is, he's someone dangerous that she needs to stay away from. "No…I can't. Bitch will work then."

"Who are you? What've you done with Ichigo?" Neliel demands, and he laughs. Oh, he laughs.

"Ichigo? He's far, far away honey. On the other side of death, as far as a soul can go." Hichigo narrates, as he feels Ichigo's rising disgust and fear deep in his chest. He's beginning to panic; that's good. Hichigo's voice takes on an excited, salesman-like tone as he narrates. "I'm the deluxe version, Hichigo! Smarter, faster, stronger; better than the original in every single way! Here's how to get yours," He snarls at the end, and in the blink of an eye, he's closed the distance between them with a shunpo and slashed at Neliel. She dodges, but not in time to completely move away from the blow and silver-hot pain slices through her side.

"Quick!" Hichigo laughs, and Neliel snarls. This isn't her friend, this is an enemy and she needs to take him down. He's even more dangerous than Nnoitra. Hichigo grabs the back of her neck with a quick snatch and drags her close enough for her to see her own reflection in his golden-black eyes. "Never quick enough, though. You think a bitch like you is going to be able to do what no one else could?"

Neliel just wanted to help her friend, and now, he's trying to kill her. Just like Nnoitra did. Offhandedly, Neliel thinks about Nnoitra now, as his body lies in ribbons on the sand. She hates him, hated him. But it wasn't like there was no sense of camaraderie there; she's always been a masochist, she's told Ichigo that. She and Nnoitra had, at one time before it all had gone wrong, been in a sort of relationship.

A highly abusive, demeaning and bloody one, but still.

She let Nnoitra know that he was below her, below a woman, and his anger at that pleased her greatly. She'd never let that show, but it did. He attacked her over and over again, and she came to look forward to watching him lay dejected in the sand, defeated once again. She liked how he snarled at her when he lost, how he called her a bitch and a whore and all these disgusting names, and how he only did that because he knew he couldn't hurt her the way he hurt most others, physically, and so tried to hurt her emotionally. It didn't work, and she could silently laugh at him while putting on airs of hating his pathetic attempts at murdering her.

They both knew the truth, though. He loved to hate her and she loved how he did it.

Nnoitra and Neliel hated one another so much that it looped back around into something else entirely. They loved to hate each other, and they couldn't get enough of it. He decided to start trying to ambush her in the hallways of Las Noches, and she, now and then, let him think he had the upper hand before slapping him down again. His enraged howls when she did so were very, very satisfying. Then one day, it turns into something else entirely when she lets him go far enough in an attempt to strangle her that she can't help herself and turns the tables, forcefully dragging him off to her room and raping him. Half because she's into asphyxiation and can't help her attraction now, and half because she wants to see what he'll do to know that he's been owned and used by the woman he hates.

He can never be rid of the shame and anger about it. Him, Nnoitra Jiruga, Octava-**fucking**-Espada, the one hollow that uses almost any woman he wants and then throws them away like trash, sexually assaulted. By a woman that he hates more than anything else in Hueco Mundo, Seireitei, and the Living World combined.

His attempts to kill her quadruple after that.

Neliel and Nnoitra begin a consensual physical relationship in pure secret, so secret that not even Dondochakka, Pesche or Tesla know about it. It's violent and rough and painful, sadistic Nnoitra and masochistic Neliel trying to kill one another in bed.

And then, one day, he decides to kill her. He tricks her, with the help of Szayel Apollo Grantz, that slimy little insect, and gets rid of her. Neliel thinks that Nnoitra couldn't handle their relationship, maybe he couldn't handle her still being dominant, maybe he just got tired of her. The possibility that he couldn't handle what might have been blooming, this tender, fragile notion of _love_, and so had to get rid of her and whatever emotions he was developing, doesn't even cross her mind. And why should it? They are hollows. Hollows do not love. They hate and kill and rape and murder, they're negative beings, less than human.

She hates this new Ichigo now, Neliel realizes. Nnoitra was hers to kill, goddammit. Hers. He was to kill her and she was to kill him, and the survivor was to forget about the dead and move on with their non-lives. That was how it was supposed to be; both Nnoitra and Neliel had agreed upon this wordlessly. And now Ichigo Kurosaki walks into the equation and destroys such a carefully-planned ending. Rage from nowhere builds in her heart.

To Hichigo's surprise, Neliel rears back and slams her fist into his face, and her hierro proves to make the punch feel like he's been kissed by a lead pipe swung at terminal velocity. He staggers back a couple steps, dazed, as she puts distance between them. He spits. Two teeth. Neliel watches him grin, sardonically, and raise his eyes to her again.

"Oh, _you_."

A moment later, he's walking towards her in an easy swagger, confident and proud and sure of victory. Neliel can't say that she can do the same.

"Silly bitch; you think you can win? I have to say though; it's always more fun when they fight. Rukia-chan…well, I liked her for a little while, until she got worn out. Like a good shirt; you can only wear it so long before it gets a little too loose for your tastes. But a hollow…I wonder if hollow women are any wilder than human ones?" He adds that little bit at the end to show the lascivious intent on his mind, and Neliel knows that she's going to have to tear him to pieces to save herself.

"Proclaim…" Neliel begins, as Hichigo stops and sighs slightly, Zangetsu in his grip, and waiting.

* * *

Orihime walks with Ulquiorra at a good clip, her face passive and emotionless, as they ascend Las Noches. She feels a reiatsu that is unfamiliar to her fade away, as Grimmjow's and Nnoitra's drop off entirely as well. She very slightly wonders if Ulquiorra is worried about Ichigo's strength.

She then allows that thought to die away. Of course Ulquiorra knows, and of course he doesn't. Ulquiorra has never cared about that sort of thing. Fear is unnecessary.

She lets the Cuarta lead her away, and prepares herself and her silent fairies for the battle to come.

* * *

Hichigo walks away from the ruined body of Neliel tu Odschervank, feeling quite a bit more relaxed than before. He feels Orihime's reiatsu and can feel that it's very close to Ulquiorra Cifer's, that prick, and grins. He gives chase, as Ichigo Kurosaki howls with grief and rage for Nel and what his body, his other half, has done to her, the blood on his hands.

Behind him, Nel drags herself across the glass-like sands to Nnoitra, and shudders to find him still alive, but just barely. Pure willpower? It would make sense; it's what's keeping her alive right now.

"Hey, you whore." Nnoitra breathes, rasping so dryly, and Neliel snarls very weakly. There are claw marks up and down her shaking form, bites and sword marks. Right now, she feels almost exactly like she did when she sat on the edge of Nnoitra's bed, rubbing her healing saliva (it was much more powerful back then) over the scratches and gashes to try and close them up so that she could shower and get rid of the evidence, while Nnoitra dressed himself again on the other side of the room, neither speaking a single word to the other.

"Shut up, bitch." Neliel responds, her voice low and gravelly, as she lies beside him in the sands. They're both going to die, and they know this.

"We going to finish this?" Nnoitra asks her, his one good eye beginning to go out of focus and his vision getting hazy.

"Let's." Neliel answers, and she knows that they've both lost too much blood to ever survive. And so she moves at the same time he does, her dragging herself upwards and onto his chest, both closing their hands around one another's throats, eyes meeting and locking to one another's. There is no hate here, though; there is only defeat, and shame, and anger, and a fragile notion that they will both never even consider. They will not die at the sword of a shinigami that is not. They are soldiers and they will die on their own terms, by the hands of their greatest enemy and closest friend.

When Aizen's forces will find them later, as far on the other side of death as two hollows can be, Neliel will be laying on top of Nnoitra with her fingers digging into his throat and her head laying down over where his heart should be, eyes closed peacefully, windpipe crushed. They'll find Nnoitra with his chin set on the crown of her head, eye closed, a serene expression and his throat torn out by Neliel's bloody hands.


	15. Sugar, Sugar, and Lots of Cream

Right now, Aizen sits with Keigo Asano, and they stare one another down.

"So," Aizen begins from his throne, as Keigo stands among the bodies of slain Arrancar guards, zanpakutou in hand, "Have you come to quell the rebellion early?"

"No," Keigo states, and there isn't a trace of the goofiness Ichigo or any of his friends have seen so far. "No, Aizen. I've come to talk. Fighting would be useless for how evenly matched we are."

The Lord of Las Noches smirks slightly, and stands from his stolen throne, walking towards the much younger-appearing man. "A prime time to visit, King of Soul Society. It's been difficult to track you down, but then again, I was expecting such. But hiding in the human world? It must have been mind numbing, no?" He breezes past Keigo without concern, and Asano sheathes his zanpakutou with a humph and follows at Aizen's back.

"Slightly. Humans are a shameful, disgusting lot. I hear you've been trying to kill me?" He quirks a brow, and Aizen smirks still.

"Your throne has been empty for far too long. Why do you not return to it and rule, as you should?"

"Because of a tip that I would be assassinated in due time," Keigo states, in monotone. "The Zeroth Division's Captain and Lieutenant Captain came with me to settle in this new identity." Aizen chuckles slightly here, glancing back now and again.

"The Captain? Isshin Kurosaki, you meant? And the Lieutenant was Kisuke Urahara, correct?" He queries, lightly, and Keigo sighs under his breath.

"How did you find that information out?" He asks Aizen, as they pass through a blank white hallway and into Aizen's private chambers. Regal. Gaudy. Aizen sits down and has a servant Arrancar pour them tea.

"It did take me a few centuries to surmise that you were even gone from the throne, much less the presence of your Zeroth guards," Aizen speaks from behind the lip of his cup, a serene expression on his face. "But after I did, then it was no small wonder who they were. An elaborate plan to save the King's life, centuries, almost millennia in the making. Amazing planning." After another sip, and then one very brief one, Aizen glances back to Keigo and speaks again. "Now, what did you stroll into enemy territory to discuss with me, Asano?"

Keigo sets down his teacup after a very, very brief sip, and looks into Aizen's eyes. "I'm here to negotiate a truce."

"A truce?" His counterpart queries, raising a brow as if wondering about Keigo's honesty. "And why would we do that? What do you offer that would be worth ending the war and relinquishing the chance at winning your throne?"

After a moment, Keigo looks out the window, and then back to Aizen. "It's safe to say that you'll never just give up on attaining my throne. I offer something different. A temporary armistice until we agree to resume the war, when our troops are bolstered again. I am very aware of how Kurosaki Ichigo is tearing through your ranks, but the shinigami's numbers are dwindling as well. A span of a millennium, in which we may train our new soldiers, and then finish the war then. My offer to seal this deal of ours?" He pauses, almost as if he doesn't want to say the next line, and then says with a breathy sigh, "The souls of the shinigami and Quincy that I accompanied. Take them, do with them what you like, make them into soldiers to destroy us with later on; do as you please." He looks back up to Aizen, and asks, "Is that acceptable?"

After a moment, Aizen smiles in a devious way at Keigo. "You sacrifice the allies you know well? That is very cold, King."

Keigo's hand tightens into a fist, before relaxing. "I do what I must to protect the Soul Society, even if it comes at a personal sacrifice. Their sacrifices will not be in vain."

After a moment, Aizen steeples his fingers under his chin, closing his eyes. He then opens them again,smiling at Asano. "Very well then; the terms of this armistice sound acceptable. I will have a Gargantua opened to return you back to the Living World, and from there, you may inform Isshin Kurosaki of how you sacrificed his son to me. Will you enjoy telling his sisters that you gave his life to me to save yourself?" He goads, but Keigo closes his eyes and stands from the table, walking past Aizen and to the window to watch, a silent guardian.

"Isshin Kurosaki and I...have already...discussed the events. It pains him greatly, but I know where his loyalties lie, and so does he. Ichigo Kurosaki is a martyr in the fullest definition of the word." He responds, solemnly, as Aizen chuckles in his throat.

"Martyr? No; a sacrificial lamb. Why do you think I left the shinigami ranks? You're all too jingoistic for your own good. Sacrificing your own so easily, for nothing but the cause."

Keigo does not answer.

* * *

Hichigo turns a corner in Las Noches' white expanse, sand in his hair and blood on his clothes. That's fine though; he knew he was going to get bloody, one way or another. And so when he drips blood with every step, it's no problem because the blood isn't his. He'll have Orihime soon, he's sure of it, and once he does, he'll leave this piece of shit dimension and spirit her away to the human world again. He'll disappear from Seireitei's focus, drop this whole hollow hunting aspect of his life, and enjoy the rest of his life. Even if Orihime grows a spine and leaves him, which won't be for a good long while if Ichigo's memory serves correctly, then she can fucking rot in a ditch for all he cares; there are prettier women, better girls, easier sluts out there that'd be more than happy to cater to his whims.

When he stops at the foot of a long staircase, preparing to head up onto a higher level and hunt Inoue's reiatsu down, he stares, blankly, at the figure standing in the doorway at the top. Vivid green eyes, a godawful, emotionless stare; it's that prick Ulquiorra, one hell of a bastard that Hichigo has a score to settle with.

"Ulquiorra!" He points Zangetsu at the Arrancar, aping Ichigo's every natural reaction, tone of voice, everything. Ulquiorra...doesn't react. After a moment, he stares longer and waits for Hichigo to do something, waits for an inclination to attack.

"You are not Ichigo Kurosaki." He drawls in his natural monotone, and Hichigo raises his eyebrows. How could Ulquibitch tell? Probably some hollow shit, he decides. And so Hichigo, seeing that it is just the two of them, smirks viciously.

"No shit, Sherlock. Ichigo's toppled off his throne and broke his crown; King's down for the count, and it's the steed's time to play. But man," He laughs, derisively, "You're the first one to actually fucking get it! Grimmjow, that dumb shit, didn't realize 'til the moment he fucking died that it wasn't Kurosaki he was fighting. That creepy spoon fucker didn't get it either, and neither did that little brat that turned into a full-sized bitch. Eh," He shrugs, keeping his now golden-black eyes on Ulquiorra, who seems detached, unaffected, almost bored, "Doesn't matter. They're all dead anyway."

Ulquiorra stares a moment longer, before speaking in his naturally laconic manner. "And why did you come?"

Shirosaki quirks a brow, again, and spits, "Because I'm gonna fuck Inoue, why the hell else? Well, I did want to off Kuchiki and Abarai and that fucking Quincy, so there _was_ more than one reason why I came, but mainly, to fuck Inoue." His snide expression drops, his voice becomes Ichigo's again; booming and heroic and full of all the self-confidence that a human WMD can have. "I'm going to rescue her, like I should have five years ago." The real Ichigo seems to retract with guilt, pain; Hichigo smirks inwardly, but keeps his expression determined. It's now that he really gets a good look at Ulquiorra, and realizes just how..._elegant_ the Espada looks. Long pianist's fingers, eyes such a bright, lurid shade of green as to be striking, almost painful to even look at, and the stiff, robotic and generally lifeless air about him doesn't diminish the almost lachrymal charm he has wrapped around him like a stifling blanket.

_'Ichigo, stop checking out Cifer,'_ Hichigo snaps, inwardly, and Ichigo doesn't have the energy to argue over who exactly is the one making them look at Ulquiorra so closely right now. Something broils in his heart that almost tastes like jealousy, and Hichigo wonders why. He shoves the idea away when Ulquiorra draws his zanpakutou, and takes a step forward. He disappears after that, and Hichigo instinctively blocks a sword heading for the back of his neck, as the battle begins.

* * *

The Hueco Mundo moon hangs heavy and backwards over their heads, as the masked Hichigo clashes with Ulquiorra, now in his Murcielago form. Who's winning? Hichigo is. He's too strong for even Ulquiorra; now in complete control of Ichigo, and not even bothering to keep the nice guy charade up, he's a killing machine, howling with laughter as he slashes at the Cuarta. Their battle is only describable with the word 'titanic'.

Ulquiorra, as Tensa Zangetsu slashes a moderate gouge in his shoulder a half second before he can slip out of range, remains stoic. Does he now know what love is, like all the dime romance novels extol of the hero, facing grinning death, would experience epiphenomena? Does he now fear to lose the woman that had been left on the floors below them, as he and a demon fight on Las Noches' roof? Does he fear at all?

No.

This is not a romance novel; his life is not piteous enough for reality to accommodate him in that. He is still stoic, unmovable emotionally; the idea of there ever being a time when he can lay in bed with Orihime and stroke her waist, and admonish, "Darling, darling I want you," and she sigh "Yes, yes my love," such silly notions are never going to happen. He will do his duties until the day he is cut down, and he will not tell her that he loves her because he does not. There is something akin to possessiveness, a hollow urge to dominate and own her completely, but there is no love, not even now when he faces murder at the hands of a devil hiding in a former flame's skin, a monster that wishes to abuse Orihime in ways Ulquiorra could name with a cool efficiency.

There is no lament over this, though. Because, despite Hichigo's abrasive nature being completely polar opposite to his own mechanical efficiency, they're really no different from one another.

A blade whistles through the air, and black blood, of an acidic nature, lands on their clothes and begins to sizzle quietly. Ulquiorra knows when he's lost, and this moment is when the blade of Zangetsu carves him from shoulder to hip. Not enough to separate the two halves of his body, but enough to render him unable to continue the battle. They've been fighting for hours, it feels like, or maybe just a few minutes. Ulquiorra has lost, and he doesn't regret because he is unable to.

Hichigo stands before him, smirking so wide that it's almost a grotesque snarl in the low moonlight, and when he slashes Ulquiorra the hollow's black blood splatters across his front and onto his face. It burns his skin, slightly, and he grimaces and wipes it off with his sleeve, before watching the Cuarta drop to his knees. Hichigo Shirosaki, as he's named himself, is unstoppable in every sense of the word. Sure, he's now toting injuries of his own, including a few sword slashes about a hair's width away from striking vitals and killing him, but he'll live, and Ulquiorra will not. That's all that's important.

"How's it feel, Ulquiorra?" He cocks his head, slightly, and sneers the question out. Ulquiorra's green and yellow-tone eyes match his black and gold pair, and the lack of an expression on the hollow's face or, indeed, any reaction at all just stirs his sadistic nature that begs him to torture the hollow to death instead of a quick, painless blow. He's arguing with himself (and ignoring Ichigo, who is arguing hopelessly for them to just leave) whether he has the time to actually torture Cifer as much as he'd really like to. Hichigo knows that he is irredeemable, that he's a monster through and through; his voice is like the shrill screams of Penderecki's chorus, his eyes are black and the edges of a chasm teeming with unnameable horrors that can only be the product of a sick and insane mind, his touch is pure icy death to anything he so decides. He has no soul and he doesn't want one. The closest thing he has to a conscience is Ichigo's shrill voice that begs for mercy, and he ignores that more than he would his conscience, if he had one at all. Hell, he does shit just to torment Ichigo...just because he _can_. He wants to see Orihime Inoue cry at his feet, he wants to break her spirit thoroughly, just because he _can_. He does these things because he _can_.

Some people don't need a reason to do horrible things. They're not abused by by their parents in childhood, they're not suffering from a mental illness that could extract pity, they're not traumatized souls that just want to find some peace. Some people are just fucking evil. Hichigo is one of these fucking evil people.

"How's it feel to know that you're gonna die right here, and nobody is going to fucking miss you?" He asks again, cockily, and Ulquiorra's eyes look dim, glassy almost; he looks so fucking _tired._ The hollow draws a breath, and meets Hichigo's eyes again. _What will he say_, Hichigo wonders._ Is he going to say something heroic? Something...dramatic? 'You're wrong!' 'I will live on in the hearts of my allies'?_

"It doesn't."

His tone comes apathetic, but there is a note of something else in it as his eyes divert from Hichigo's to something right behind Hichigo; they widen by a tiny fraction, but enough to pique Hichigo's interest. He glances over his shoulder, foolishly looking away from Ulquiorra and not just taking a step backwards and turning sideways to see both Ulquiorra and what's behind him; he turns around, and sees a small fairy about an inch from his head. Past Tsubaki's diminutive form, he sees her. Her eyes are glassy and icy cold grey, like concrete in winter, and her face is as passive as Ulquiorra's.

"I reject you." She says in her cool monotone, as the explosion occurs.

* * *

The world is spinning.

He can't hear out of one ear, and the other is ringing horribly loud. The entire world is off-kilter. He can't even feel which direction is up or which one is down. He just knows that there is pain, there is so much pain, and that he can't hear out of one fucking ear and his eyes are closed and it's hard to breathe. When he opens his eyes, vision only returns in one of them; the other is still pitch blackness. He coughs and spits and hard things drop to the ground beneath him; he gets a dizzy look at them and sees that they're bone white and bloody. Teeth.

He then realizes that something's different. He's in control again.

Ichigo Kurosaki regains control of his body now, and realizes it. Hichigo is back, chained down in his soul where he fucking belongs. He's filled with joy, or something that resembles it, until he tries to move.

"Da...mn." He gags, hoarsely, as the attempt at moving causes him untold pain. Rolling, with great difficulty, onto his back, he looks down with his one good eye and sees, with horror so complete as to be dull and almost manageable at the moment, that his right arm is gone from shoulder down. Zangetsu is shattered into pieces, scattered by the force of the attack along the roof of Las Noches. His legs are broken, or at least, one is; he's not going to be able to stand either way. With a soft, very soft groan, he lays his head back down onto the roof of Las Noches and stares at the backwards moon and the lack of stars, making the sky seem like a gigantic black void filled by only one gigantic monster hanging heavy and grinning, an eldritch being waiting to drop and devour all of them. It looks so alien.

Quietly now, he hears footsteps, and sees feet approach at his left. Forcing his head to move, he sees Orihime, but this...this is not Orihime. Her eyes are vacant, and there is no humanity left in her empty shell. He could never have imagined her destructive potential to be so great. But that's not what bothers him now, as he begins to speak quietly, trying to assure her that it's not Hichigo anymore, that it's him, Ichigo, her friend.

"Ori...hime..." He rasps, and sees no glimmer of recognition in her eyes. "Orihime...it's Ichigo...it's me, not my...hollow...we came to save...to save you..."

She does nothing but look to his left, at what he guesses is Ulquiorra, and then back to him. She doesn't believe him. Is there any fate worse than this? His hollow is banished again, but Ichigo himself, virtuous of heart and only meaning the best, is here to suffer the consequences of his hollow's actions. What he did to all of them, what he did to Rukia, what he did to Nel. What he did.

'Don't you forget, King,' He hears a snide voice inside his mind, but God it sounds so fucking weak and exhausted, 'It's not just me you can blame all your troubles on. I'm you, and you're me. I just did all the things you wish you could have.'

"That's...not true," Ichigo says aloud, closing his eyes a moment, his voice desperate now. "I never wanted to do all...all of this..." He chokes, tastes blood. Internal injuries? Likely. Humorless laughter reverberates through his soul.

'No matter what I did, you, whether you fucking wanted to realize it or not, wanted to do all of it on some level. Maybe subconscious, maybe just those dirty little thoughts you never wanted anyone to know about. But it's true. I just did what you wanted me to.' Hichigo's tone turns resigned at the last words, before fading out into silence entirely. Is it another guilt trip? Is it the truth? Ichigo can't...can't honestly tell. But he wants it to be a lie, he wants it to be a lie so fucking bad that he can taste it, and it tastes like his blood. Orihime stirs, slightly, before him, and he realizes that she's preparing to attack again.

"Orihime, please...help me." He beseeches, but when she merely aims her open palm at him, he thinks he feels his one good eye beginning to tear up. He doesn't want to die. He was invincible, whether it be through Hichigo or his own power. He doesn't want to die. He's so young, and the shade of death on his shoulders is so heavy as to be suffocating, terrifying. He doesn't want to die.

"What did I ever do to you?" Ichigo Kurosaki asks Orihime Inoue now, and it's a stupid, stupid question that neither of them has to really think to learn the answer to. There are thousands of reasons why she's doing what she's doing, but only one moment to say them all.

"Nothing."

Orihime's voice comes soft and feminine and girlish again, infinitely sad, and Ichigo's warm brown eyes go wide as he hears her voice. Not this new Orihime's voice, but her voice. He looks up into her eyes as tears run down her cheeks, and the warmth in her face is so soft. "And that's the point. Goodbye, Kurosaki-kun."

A moment later, Ichigo mouths 'I'm sorry' as her Koten Zanshun takes his life. There is...nothing left when she's done, when her eyes harden into icy steel again, when she turns and walks away from the gory mess and kneels beside Ulquiorra's prone form. His eyes focus on her face, as she heals him, and they are silent. He stands, returning to his sealed, normal form, as she remains kneeling. He offers a hand to her, and she takes it gently, pulling herself up with his help. He has a grip on Murcielago.

"Orihime," He says in his unaffected monotone, and she looks up at him with something that comes as close to passion as either of them can manage. He brushes away a tear, though his gaze remains neutral, hers does too. She doesn't speak and neither does he, as he dips low for a kiss, stiff and mechanical. It's the first time that she actually feels him slip his tongue into her mouth, and it's the first time that she realizes that the acidic tendencies do not end at his blood. His saliva burns her mouth like fire, like acid, and after a desperate moment where he pins her against him and she valiantly attempts to soldier through the pain, she screams in his mouth and jerks away from him, spitting blood and a section of her tongue out, tears of pain running down her cheeks, blood running down her chin. It's only now that Ulquiorra realizes that, in a burst of something resembling a sudden onset of intense, prominent hunger, he has bitten a section of her tongue off. He spits it out onto the white roof and stares at it as it dissolves through the effect of his saliva, as, no doubt, the inside of Orihime's cheeks must be doing as well. She is healing herself with her fairies, as he contemplates these recent developments in his silent manner.

"Orihime," he repeats her name, very softly, as she turns to look at him, blood on her lips, a pale look about her and a surprised expression, he draws Murcielago and with one fell slice, cuts her throat. For a moment, her eyes bulge with shock, terror, confusion, and they set on Ulquiorra with every shade of betrayal. But after a moment, as he watches blood gush from her throat and stain her bosom, her white outfit, she seems to understand, and he almost wishes that she does, almost hopes that she understands what he's doing, why he's doing it, but he knows she doesn't and never will, because she's not a hollow. She's not like him. She'll never understand. Her eyes grow glassy, dim, and close halfway, as the grip she has on her throat loosens slightly, and her expression becomes almost serene. When she drops, Ulquiorra is quick to catch her in his arms, and it's so close to chivalrous that you might think they were Romeo and Juliet, in another world, in different circumstances. They are. They were. There was just less passion, and more tragedy. Star-crossed lovers? The stars were never there at all.

Orihime doesn't say anything, doesn't try to, as she spends the few seconds she still has staring at his face. She doesn't mouth 'I love you', she doesn't try and kiss him. She just waits, and wilts, until she is dead and Ulquiorra closes her eyes, sheathing Murcielago before adjusting Orihime to a bridal style position, sonidoing down to ground level and away from the mess that was once Ichigo Kurosaki, past Nnoitra and Neliel's pathetic corpses, past Grimmjow who may or may not be still alive, but won't be for long either way. Ulquiorra knew from the very moment that she cried for Kurosaki that she was dangerous to him, and the unfamiliar stab of pain to his heart when she rejected his one show of real affection, his kiss, cemented it. She was dangerous to him, to his detached and efficient manner, to everything that made up his being; she was becoming too important to him.

He will not let her become his Delilah, and he would not be her Sampson.

This is why she needed to die. Right now, his memory of her will be pristine, as he always wants it to be; now that she is dead and cannot betray him, she will remain a queen in his eyes, a being on a pedestal far above him, something innocent and beautiful and precious and far more than he ever deserves. He wanted her, and he did have her for a very, very short amount of time, but he knows that if he were to keep her around, her pedestal would crack and she would no longer be his diva. She won't be able to injure the heart he never wanted. She won't be able to be used against him. She won't hinder his decisions and abilities.

Does it hurt him, as he walks across the sands with her in his arms, halfway wanting to throw her away and the other half wanting to cling to her and never let go? Yes. And this is why she needs to be put away forever. He doesn't need emotions or love or anything humane. He needs to be a monster, and she was turning him human. But he won't just forget her; he'll never forget her, and Ulquorra knows this too well. And that's why he's going to preserve her, and keep her around forever, for something innocent and pure and lovely to look at to remind him of what he's never going to become.

But there is time for that later, Ulquiorra decides, as he carries her into the Hueco Mundo desert. There will always be time for him, and now, there will always be time for her, too.

Right now, he wants to lay with her in the sands and tell her all those sweet little nothings that he never really wanted to say.


	16. Dreamy Fake Days

**((Alright, since the actual story ended on a black note, I thought, since you all slogged through fifteen chapters of depression, that it'd be only fitting to offer something less...depressing. An alternate ending, if you want to call it that. I know the feeling when you desperately wish an ending could've been happy, and it...wasn't. Remember that this isn't the canonical ending to the story; in the story story, everyone dies and then their souls probably get used by Aizen to turn into hollows for the new Espada. This is just for lovely escapism, y'know.  
**

**So here's to you, kid.))**

* * *

It's been sixteen years since the tragedy of Ichigo Kurosaki's rescue team being wiped out on the sands of Hueco Mundo. The tragedy was repeated by mouth, until everyone knew of it. Heroism has no place in this world.

In the Living World, a high school lets out, and a pair of teens walk out. One gives a shove to the other, but playfully.

"You know, I can't believe you're actually getting all those tattoos, Ryota," He laughs, as his companion shoves him back with an annoyed stare, but a grin creeping onto his face either way.

"Hey, these tattoos looks pretty fucking cool, I think," Ryota begins, gesturing to the tribal stripes going up his arms. His long hair, a blood red color, is tied back in a ponytail, as he gives his friend another shove. "You're one to talk, Isamu, Mr. Strawberry Blond." He ruffles Isamu's orange hair, and the two wrestle to grab at each other's hair, Isamu going for Ryota's ponytail and Ryota giving playful jerks to Isamu's thuggishly-coloured hair. Other students walk around them, until they stop suddenly at the call of a voice.

"Hey, you idiots, if you're going to grope each other then do it where we don't all have to watch!" A female voice snaps at them, and Ryota shoves Isamu back a few steps.

"Hey Rika. And Isamu started it with that thug scowl of his," He accuses, as Isamu prepares to launch into another witty comment but stops when he sees Rika, a short girl, her black hair styled into her peculiar bob, give a fleeting peck on the cheek to Ryota, who seems suitably surprised. Isamu wonders if they're going to go out.

"Ryota, you can shove it; you just know I'm right." He finally manages, regaining his composure, a moment before Ryota whirls on him and they playfully begin to shove at one another.

"Oh yeah?"

"Heh, yeah, you dog-faced liar."

"Burns me, Isamu; you know how much your opinion matters to me."

"And why am I not surprised," A cool voice comes from the group's left, and they all look over at the approaching student their age, "That you two are causing a commotion?" A rather stern-looking young man, with glasses and short black hair, generally a studious type, approaches them with a sigh in his voice. Ryoji grins.

"Hey Udon." He quips, just to watch the young man's eyebrow twitch in displeasure.

"It's Udo, and you_ know_ that." Udo corrects, pushing up his glasses, testily. Isamu gives Ryoji a shove and stands in front of the intelligent-type.

"How's sewing club going?" He asks, with a bit of a grin, and Udo smirks.

"How are your grades?" He quips back, and Udo's expression darkens.

"You're an asshole, did you know that?"

"Quite aware. In any case, have you seen-" Udo begins, the group walking together, before they hear a loud noise behind them; someone asking someone else if they're alright, and Isamu looks back, his orange-tone hair bright in the after-school sunlight.

"Hey, it's Teruko and Osen," He notes aloud, cutting Udo off, before waving to them. Teruko, a young woman currently in Isamu's rank in Kendo, her short, boyishly-cut black hair unmoving in the breeze, is helping up her best friend, Osen. Osen herself looks up at then as she gets up from where she tripped, her long orange hair swaying in the breeze, her gray eyes bright and joyous, and she smiles widely and waves to them.

"Hi guys!" She calls, walking with Teruko over to the small group. She looks at Isamu and smiles warmly, as he stares at her with a grin. He's been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out, but he's not sure if she's interested. "Everyone doing well today?"

Everyone gives a mumble of approval, and Teruko grins. "Alright, now that school is done with, lets' go out and eat. Isamu's paying." Isamu stares at her, about to say something, when Osen's laugh and appreciative hug cuts him off.

"Thanks, Isamu; I didn't know you were taking us all out," She says, but before he can hug her back, she's already pulling away and walking with Rika up ahead, of them, laughing. Isamu watches as Udo catches up with her and begins speaking quietly to her, but he can't tell what they're talking about. She laughs, almost nervously, and says something quietly back, and Udo continues walking beside her.

* * *

After their dinner at a nearby restaurant, Isamu tries to steel himself to ask Osen out. But she says she wants to get some fresh air, and while she's alone out there, he prepares himself. Ryoji is breaking his concentration almost purposefully, but he'll get it.

Outside, Osen relaxes in the cool evening, watching the red fireflies dance around her head. Udo asked her out on a date after school, and she doesn't know what she's going to tell him. Yes? No? She has no idea. Confused, she remains out there, waiting for everyone else to come out, when she sees motion in the direction of a nearby tree. Curious, she peers closer, and sees that it's a person.

"Hello?" She speaks to him, mainly because it's in her nature, and he turns to look at her. She's struck by how pale he is, and how lurid green his eyes are. But most of all, it's the twin tear tracks going down his cheeks. "Um...do you need any help? Are you...alright?" It's a very small rural town, so nobody's really afraid that any random person is a serial killer; that only happens in the big cities, like Tokyo. The stranger shakes his head a moment, before opening his mouth to speak. He seems to think twice about it, closing his mouth again, before opening it and finally speaking.

"...What...is your name?" He asks her, and his voice chills her, but she manages an answer anyway, taking a cursory step closer. He seems...vaguely familiar, as if wrapped in a blanket of nostalgia for something she's never seen before, a person she's never met.

"Osen," She tells him, as he takes a step closer to her. "Um...who are you? Do I know you?"

He seems to deliberate on whether to answer or not, but remains reserved, quiet. She kind of likes that; he's not pushy like the boys at school are. He just takes things as they come. After a moment, she thinks she hears her friends calling her name back at the restaurant but she doesn't really care right now, standing in front of the mysterious stranger while pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He closes his eyes, inhaled, and then, as the moon hangs heavy over them, and the millions of little pinpricks of early stars seem to almost disappear for them a moment, he speaks.

"My name is...Ulquiorra Cifer," He tells her, and when no recognition flickers in her eyes, he is almost relieved. "Would you...like to take a walk with me?"

She thinks about it a moment, and looks back to her group of friends, and then to this mysterious Ulquiorra again. She knows she should be saying no, should be leaving, because she doesn't even know this guy, but at the same time...she thinks she does.

She takes his hand in hers and Osen ignores how icy cold he is as she lets him lead her away from her friends and down the path that leads beside the river, a haze of red dragonflies all around them.

* * *

**((So...yeah, this the end end. Still non-canonical for the main story, but I thought someone, somewhere, would like something at least slightly hopeful to read after all that depressing stuff. You know, a chance at a new life for the reincarnated rescue team and Orihime herself. Thanks for reading.))**


End file.
